Quantum Entanglements
by kerithwyn
Summary: What happens in one universe has profound consequences for the other. Fringe series that assumes Red'verse Lincoln/Fauxlivia/Charlie at the start, heading in a Red!Lincoln/Blue!Olivia direction. Surprise ending pairings.  For me, anyway.
1. Prologue Someone Borrowed

Prologue (Someone Borrowed)

by 'rith

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Olivia Dunham, Alternate Lincoln/Olivia/Alternate Charlie

Rating: R

Wordcount: ~1,200

Spoilers: Through "Stowaway."  
>Summary: Olivia is living Fauxlivia's life. Though the world is falling down, there are compensations. And fallout.<p>

Notes: This is actually a stealth-backfill, taking the first two pieces of "Someone Borrowed" and editing it into the official first fic of Quantum Entanglements so the series has a real beginning. Purely to settle my own OCD tendencies, of course. *g*

**(Red)**

At the end of the case Lincoln turns to her and says, "My place? Seven?"

And it takes Olivia a moment, but then she grins and says, "Wouldn't miss it" like always, and the smile on his face that had been partly hopeful, partly concerned (still treading carefully after her breakdown, so ridiculous) turns into one of pure anticipation.

Across the room Astrid glances up at them and the briefest knowing look flits across her face before she turns back to her monitors. Olivia wonders what she'd do if invited, what she'd look like with those lips wrapped around-

but no, the after-action is for them alone, the Fringe active team who risk life and sanity and worse with each incursion.

In the meantime she widens her eyes in warning at Lincoln and he rearranges his face back to something approaching professional, or at least as much as he's capable of, and he mouths "Seven" at her before wandering back to his desk.

It's okay that she's grinning, she's usually grinning when Lincoln is around. He's class clown and consummate soldier rolled into one, somehow never falling prey to the fatalism that surrounds Fringe Division. Even burned to within an inch of his life he was still ready for action, prepared for anything their decaying world could throw at him.

So she-she loves him, sure. There's probably some kind of pathology Liv doesn't care to examine in the irony that she'll fuck Lincoln but would never date him.

Even that's treading a fine line. She's not oblivious to the way he looks at her when he thinks she doesn't see, but their current circumstances bring them all to places they never thought they'd go. Self-circumspection isn't really her thing, but even she can see she would have destroyed Lincoln if she'd given him half a chance.

Frank has his own obsessively consuming career, and he's not *there* all the time. They both like their space. At the end of the day Frank doesn't need her and Olivia doesn't need him. There's love between them, of course, but not need. And that's the way she likes it.

But Frank has nothing to do with this evening.

She glances around but Charlie is nowhere to be seen, as usual-off decompressing in his own way, managing his nerves and his arachnids. Wrestling with his guilt about sleeping with his teammates, probably, before succumbing to the inevitable. Olivia might think his qualms are ridiculous, but Charlie takes his job description seriously. Except when it comes to the night after a mission, and as far as she's concerned, that's a matter of simple survival.

The docs swear that there's no chance of passing along the infestation but Charlie is ultra-careful anyway, insisting on the condom, cautious with his tongue. He doesn't kiss her, but Liv thinks that his internal guests aren't the only reason for that.

If that's the boundary he needs to set to make it all right, that's fine by her. It still puts him on the edge of the bed, nuzzling her neck and hard inside her, while Lincoln between her knees licks at them both.

Her body clenches at the thought, at the memory. Anticipation is building and hell, no one's going to care if she doesn't turn in this report tonight. Fringe Division gets some well-deserved leeway even in the tight bureaucracy, courtesy of Secretary Bishop. She can grab a quick bite and still complain later that Lincoln's got nothing to eat when she's standing naked in front of his refrigerator at three in the morning. Which will provoke the expected response, cheerful and crude, and she'll take him up on the offer to prove herself wrong.

She shivers again and shuts down her workstation with a definitive motion. Work is over and as she gathers her things, she calls out a "'night, all" to the room that fools no one. But it doesn't matter. In just a few hours Charlie will meet her at the door of Lincoln's apartment. "Hey Livvy," he'll say, his voice even rougher than usual, not just an effect of the already half-empty whiskey glass in his hand.

And she'll grin and move inside, and the world will be set right for a couple of hours. These days, that's almost more than she can hope for.

**(Blue)**

After William Bell-they haven't yet invented the words for the situations Olivia finds herself in. After she's been "dispossessed"? Whatever the terminology, after Bell's consciousness leaves her, Olivia spends some time catching up on what she's missed. Again.

The case of the woman who couldn't die (at least temporarily) is interesting enough, but what really catches her attention with a cold, sharp shock is the agent who worked with Fringe Division on the case. Agent Lincoln Lee, out of Hartford. *This* world's Lincoln Lee.

She hadn't mentioned Captain Lee once she returned to her own world, just like she hadn't mentioned the...activities the alternate Fringe agents engaged in post-mission. Those memories were personal, and hers alone.

Broyles says (this) Lincoln proved himself to be professional, intuitive, and-most important-flexible enough to not only accept the impossible, but to absorb the implications deeply enough to follow the illogic to a solution. A valuable aptitude, and one she thinks will be useful in the coming months.

When she looks at the photos in his personnel file, though, she has to laugh. Those glasses! And such earnest expressions! Her Lincoln-

-no, not *her* Lincoln, the other Olivia's Lincoln, the one who looked at her with worshipful eyes.

It's almost enough to find a pretext to drive down to Hartford and visit this Lincoln Lee, to-oh, dammit, to explain she wasn't herself when they first met, to introduce herself properly.

The other Olivia has Lincoln, she has Frank, she has a Charlie who's not dead.

Olivia has Peter.

Peter who didn't know she wasn't herself, who confessed to murdering the shapeshifters right before Bell took over her body. The first she had come to terms with; she didn't know herself during those weeks, either. Walter calls her double "Fauxlivia," which is cute but inaccurate; having lived her life, Olivia knows the other her isn't any less real. The second...

...the second they haven't yet discussed, and she can't imagine what she'll say.

It's complicated with Peter, she knows it will always be complicated, not only by their current actions and their current circumstances but by the echoes of the past. He stolen from an alternate universe, she experimented on and given unpredictable, fluctuating powers-and everyone around them convinced they are meant to be. Olivia sometimes thinks that Walter and Nina are really just biding their time, waiting for her and Peter to produce some new breed of mutant super-baby.

Considering she can't even *talk* to Peter at the moment, that possibility is a long, long way off.

It's with real regret that Olivia shuts off the computer, returning Lincoln's pictures to their electronic sleep. Whoever he is, whatever path his life has taken in this world, she has no right or reason to impose her own experiences on him. She has no right to imagine his hands on her breasts, touching as expertly as his other self, or to picture the look on his face as he comes inside her.

These things she already knows, and she's keeping them for herself.

{end}

Notes: In retrospect this fic sets up a lot of what I wanted for Quantum Entanglements: Olivia's attraction to Red!Lincoln, and her momentary dissatisfaction with Peter (they never *did* deal with the shapeshifter murders). Considering the rest of the series to date (through "Distant Early Warning") is from the perspective of an Olivia who never knew Peter Bishop, it'll be interesting to see what happens when he returns...


	2. Paradigm Shift

AGENT FRANCIS: Buddy, why don't you stop focusing on me and just admit... You've got a thing for Liv.  
>LEE: That's ridiculous. Although I do think if she was going to cheat on Frank with someone... You know what? It's none of my business.<br>FRANCIS: Yeah. I knew that was driving you crazy.

Paradigm Shift

by 'rith

Fandom: Fringe Characters: (alt) Lincoln/(alt) Charlie, mention of previous Lincoln/Olivia/Charlie Rating: R Wordcount: ~1,000 Spoilers: Coda to "Bloodline."  
>Summary: There's a lot to process.<br>Notes: The alt'verse is eating my brain. Thanks a lot, show.  
>Thanks: to killabeez for the thumbs-up.<p>

They've done this before. They haven't done anything like this before.

There's an Olivia-shaped hole between them now, Lincoln can feel it even as Charlie thrusts into him. (Although honestly, that's more than enough to drive all other concerns away.) There's also a new tang of the forbidden, because they haven't done this before without her.

He hadn't, really-honest-for-true *hadn't* intended this when he'd invited Charlie over. No matter that Charlie only ever visited his apartment on their post-mission nights, Lincoln had been thinking about continuing their conversation in more private quarters.

But he wasn't going to argue, either, not when Charlie pushed through the door with intent in his eyes. "What about Bug Girl?" he'd managed to gasp as Charlie's hands went down his pants.

(That Charlie doesn't shoot back with "What about Liv?" is proof of his fundamental decency.)

"It was just tea," Charlie had growled, and well, all right then. Lincoln knows when to surrender to a superior force. Or at least how to bow (or bend over) gracefully to the inevitable.

And anyway, this is post-mission too, even if Liv was in the hospital with-with her new baby, and Lincoln hasn't half begun to process *that.* So everything else aside they've earned this, a chance to celebrate having survived another insane mission, and Lincoln shuts the rest of it out to enjoy what he's owed.

But after, yeah, things get sticky. (Stickier.) Charlie is drinking and brooding over Olivia, both the one in the hospital and the other one, not-their-Liv. While that's a good look for him, it's also counterproductive when they've got more important issues at hand, like how Secretary Bishop manipulated and lied to them, and how they're going to keep him from realizing that they know it. How they're going to keep from being disappeared like Colonel Broyles.

"How could we not have known?" Charlie asks, his voice breaking, and it turns out they don't have more important issues immediately at hand, after all.

Lincoln can only offer what little he's pieced together. They both understand that the Secretary's mad science is less "mad" than "terrifyingly effective," and even Lincoln's advanced degree gives him just enough background to grok maybe a quarter of what they're really doing out in the field. The rest of the time he can bullshit fast enough to sound smarter than he is, smart enough to have been promoted to the head of division with Broyles gone. There's no space for bullshit here, though, not when it involves two men who've suddenly realized that the woman they'd been sleeping with wasn't herself for a couple of weeks.

And they can't-explain, they can't apologize, because that other Olivia is back in her own universe. Lincoln isn't buying the "sent home" line, not for one second, not after what the cab driver said and Broyles' disappearance. But something tells him she's not dead, either, if for no other reason than the Secretary might want to swap Olivias again at some point.

They can't do anything about her. They can both feel like shit about it, but that's the extent. As for their Liv-

It's his turn to break a little. He's taken hits before but not like this, not so many in quick succession. While she was in the other universe Liv had an affair with the Secretary's son who was kidnapped twenty years ago, and that doesn't sound any less insane when he says it aloud. Liv got pregnant. Liv had a baby two seconds later and Lincoln confessed that he loves her and she didn't blink.

He knows that's more than a little unfair, given the circumstances. And his dumbass crush is no secret to anyone, for God's sake, although both Liv and Charlie have been considerate enough not to rub it in his face. Despite that, despite everything, it somehow makes sense in the context of their crazy, every-second-could-be-the-last lives that they've been sleeping together after missions, the three of them, and that afterward Liv goes home to Frank and Charlie to his worms ("They're not worms," Charlie says reflexively, like always), and Lincoln changes the bed sheets in case he has other company.

Charlie declines to comment on the rarity of that event and instead gets up to wander back to the whisky bottle. As much as Lincoln appreciates the view, he's on the verge of protesting when Charlie comes back with a second full glass in hand and fuck it, he's not the boss when they're here.

He never has been. Charlie is-*Charlie,* older and self-assured and ridiculously competent in a ridiculous number of ways. Lincoln thinks he wouldn't have been able to cope half as well with the arachnids and the constant injections, but Charlie just makes it part of his everyday routine: shit, shower, shave, shot. Never mind the iron discipline he imposes on himself to make sure he doesn't infect anyone else.

And Liv, who ever could tell her what to do? She makes her own way, crazy reckless one moment and whip-smart intuitive the next, and that's why Lincoln loves her.

Charlie's hand tightens on his arm and they both toss back their drinks, all manly and crap, and then Charlie says, "Anything I can do?"

Lincoln pretends to think about it for a long moment, because the real answer is "no" and he doesn't want to leave it at that. "You can call me 'sir' again."

"Respectfully request that you fuck me, *sir,*" Charlie fires back immediately, like he doesn't need to think about his response at all.

It isn't a solution to any of their issues but it's what they have for now, and he'll take it. A damn sight better than sealing their-their new conspiracy with a handshake, too. The world has been falling apart for over two decades but it's only now that Lincoln really feels things shifting under his feet.

At least he's got Charlie to hang on to. For the moment, that's got to be enough.

{end}


	3. Cracks in the Foundation

Cracks in the Foundation

by 'rith

Fandom: Fringe Characters: (alt) Lincoln, Fauxlivia, mention of previous Lincoln/Olivia/Charlie Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: ~2,000 Spoilers: Post-"Bloodline." Sequel to Paradigm Shift.  
>Summary: Lincoln has too many doubts.<br>Notes: I am trying to be fair to Fauxlivia. It's really damn hard. Posting before I'm inevitably jossed by "6:02 AM EST."  
>Thanks: to Killa for quite properly telling me not to sweat it and post.<p>

The next step, obviously, is getting Liv involved.

This is new: Lincoln finds himself talking to Charlie about how to approach her. He's never had a problem with that before, either at work or after hours. But it feels like they've got to tread carefully now about everything, and he can't see moving forward without her. He's never been involved in a conspiracy like this before, and certainly not one that's pointing toward an investigation of arguably the most powerful man in the country.

Charlie's her friend from way back and it might make sense for him to broach the topic, but no. Lincoln is the team leader, he's the boss now, and it's time he really stepped up and earned the title.

And then there's the other thing, his confession thing.

Charlie's got a definite answer on that one, at least. "I'd let it be, buddy. Frank left her, she just had a baby. Crazy girl hormones and all. Probably not the time."

So he's determined not to mention it, as long as she doesn't. They still have things to discuss.

Secretary Bishop was apparently not kidding about making sure Liv has everything she needs; no Super 9 motel for his grandson, but a suite at the Boston Four Seasons. Lincoln is less interested in the decor than in finding the security guys posted outside and inside the hotel. At least four he spotted, one he's not sure about, and he wouldn't put bets against a sniper on the opposite roof. It's simultaneously comforting and terrifying, and he can't help the itch between his shoulder blades as he rides up the elevator, ostensibly alone.

The Secret Service guy in the hall gives him the hairy eyeball, checks his Show Me, and lets him through.

The door opens onto a front room that's bigger than his whole apartment. Liv is curled up on the couch under a blanket, reading. Lincoln catches a glimpse of the title-"Buddha" something, not her usual reading matter-before she tosses the book down and grins at him. "Hey! About time you came by."

"I was just letting you get settled-" he starts to protest, but Liv is laughing at him already. "I figured you had your hands full, that's all. And the docs said you needed rest."

"Uch, it's gross, I feel all stretched out of shape." She tosses her head toward one of the doorways at the back of the room. "Mom's watching the baby sleep."

As if summoned, Marilyn peers around the corner. "Olivia, did you say- oh, hello, Lincoln." Liv's mom smiles at him and he smiles back; he's always liked Marilyn and she likes him. They bonded early on over their mutual concern (love) for her daughter. She crosses the room to him and bemused, Lincoln lets her pull him down to kiss his cheek. "Thank you so much for everything you did to find her. I don't know what I would have done if, if-"

Liv breaks in, sounding both amused and exasperated. "Mom! Quit mackin' on my boss."

Marilyn waves a dismissive hand. "Lincoln doesn't mind."

"I can't resist the Dunham women," he agrees, too truthfully, because he cannot ever keep his mouth shut.

Liv's mom refrains from calling him on it, but tells him with a look exactly how transparent he is. "I'll leave you two to talk. She's on strict bed rest, so no calisthenics."

"No ma'am," he says, while Liv rolls her eyes.

"Call if you need anything," Marilyn says, and disappears into the back room again.

"Maybe I should have left you two alone," Liv says dryly.

It's as good an opening as any. "Listen, Charlie and I agreed we needed to tell you. While you were...away, you know we still had missions, and afterward..." he can't quite finish, hoping she'll get the gist.

She looks blank for a moment, and then grins. "Oh! Oh, sure." And a tick later, to his stunned and blank silence, she says, "It's okay, really. I mean, she *was* me, for awhile. If that's bugging you."

It's bugging him on a level Charlie's arachnids couldn't touch. This-this isn't news to her. When she returned Liv picked up like nothing had changed, like she'd never been gone. And he gets the "classified mission" part, Liv is a good soldier, but it's still a giant lie of omission between them.

His numb, clumsy tongue says, "But she-she wasn't you, I mean, she didn't agree to be you."

Liv frowns, and then-oh, she's quick, she's always been quick. "Lincoln, it wasn't like-*you* didn't know and *she* didn't know, so really, no harm done, right?"

And right then, he knows how very wrong this conversation has gone. But he's got no filters when he's with her, he can't get his face to behave, and now Liv is staring at him like he's the one from the other universe. An imposter where her-her friend should be.

"No harm?" he manages, and she frowns again.

"Okay, you're upset. But that other Olivia, she's gone now, okay? And it's-you know, you're beating yourself up a lot for someone from a, a universe that *broke* our world."

It's true. They're at war. That other Olivia is an enemy combatant, at best. And maybe he's a traitor for worrying so much about her, about what he did with-to her. But near as he can figure she was also a prisoner of war, and he just can't reconcile "mind-wipe" with the Geneva Convention. Or his part in her sojourn here.

And Liv seems to get it, finally, because her face softens and she smiles at him, ruefully and with gentleness in her eyes. It's a new look for her. "But you're-you're still angsting over it. Look, I can tell you-when I was over there, living her life, I learned a lot about her. I mean, she's *me.* Kind of." She laughs a little, shaking her head. "There's no language for this. But I *know* from experience that you didn't hurt her, so-let it go? Can you do that?"

He nods and manages a smile because it's true, there's nothing he can do about it anyway. "So you don't know anything about what happened to her?"

Liv shoots him a look full of surprise that can't be anything but genuine. "No, why would I? I finished my mission, so I assumed she got sent back too. Things didn't go *exactly* as we planned, but I always figured we'd just swap back, no one the wiser."

It's an assumption he's having a hard time accepting, entirely aside from the implication that she was comfortable lying to her partners. "Broyles disappeared about the same time you came back. Charlie and I, we think it's related."

"I don't know anything about that. I was there, and then I was able to come back, and just picked up where I left off. Well, mostly." Her mouth twists with combined annoyance and regret. "Didn't count on the peanut. Or Frank-"

She cuts herself off with a wince. "Anyway. I can't tell you any more about the cross-over, it's, uh, it's classified." At least she seems embarrassed at having to say it. "Sorry, boss. But you think-" her eyes narrow, "you think Broyles' vanishing had something to do with her?"

He spreads his hands. "Not sure. But the timing is suspicious, so-"

"Suspicious? You don't think she, you know, just grabbed him or something?"

Lincoln has to pause because no, honestly, that hadn't occurred to him. His guilt over the other Olivia is clouding his judgment. On the other hand... "Secretary Bishop said she was 'sent home.'"

"Oh." Liv is quiet for a moment, fiddling with her blanket, and when she speaks again, her voice is very low. "You suspect *him.*"

"I think," Lincoln says, carefully, and that's a new thing too, "that there's a lot here we're not being told. Aside from the 'classified' part."

"Oh, come on, you *know* there's a lot we're not being told." Liv drops her hands and fixes him in place with a look. "I'm just not sure how much of that is relevant. You know, he's- the Secretary is doing his best to fix *this* world."

He can't fault her loyalty or her dedication; if he'd been chosen as the agent to go into the other world, Lincoln imagines he'd have done the same. It's not the mission that bothers him, it's the obfuscation. But Broyles' disappearance keeps nagging at him and all of his intuition tells him it's directly connected to Olivia's mission on the other side. "I know, Liv. But look at all the resources that went into finding you, and even then, we got lucky. With Broyles, there's just nothing."

Liv stares at him for a long, long moment before she blows out a breath. "You're right. That is hinky." She looks down, considering, and then back at him. "Not to change the subject, but-is there anything more on who grabbed me?"

Lincoln wishes he was as certain that the two aren't related. "When you were taken, we tried to use the Eschelon tracker, but they'd removed it. Liv..." He tries for a steady look and suspects he's failing miserably. "The list of those who know about the tracker is pretty long. The list of those who knew about it, *and* about your pregnancy, or who had access to your medical records..."

"Pretty short." Her voice sounds dry, and she reaches for the glass of water on the table. "Did you get names?"

And now he's cursing himself, because he'd ordered the database compilation and utterly forgotten to follow up. "Farnsworth should have them by now."

The more he thinks about it, the more certain he is there's one name he's going to find. Accelerated pregnancy isn't unheard of, but it's far from common and requires a lot of specific medical knowledge. And of all the doctors associated with Fringe Division, Dr. Fayette is the one Lincoln thinks mostly likely to neglect the "non" part of iprimum non nocere./i

But for now- "I'll talk to her in the morning, see what turns up."

Liv sighs and shifts on the couch, discomfort in every small motion. "Wish I could be there."

Lincoln stretches his legs and stands. "You heard your mom. That's one order I wouldn't *dream* of disobeying."

She mutters something mutinous-sounding under her breath, but nods. "Let me know if you find anything?"

"First thing," he promises, and is halfway to the door when she says,

"I did hear you, you know."

So they're having this conversation after all. He turns back to face her, determined not to drag it out. "Liv, I didn't mean-" to make you uncomfortable, he's about to say, but she cuts him off.

"No, I know you *meant* it, don't take it back. I really-is it awful to say I really appreciated it?" Liv rolls her eyes at herself and makes a disgusted face. "Yeah, that is awful. Lincoln, it means the world to me, but right now I just can't- I can't-"

And he rescues her, like he always does. "Didn't expect you too. We're partners, all right?"

"Always." Her smile is gentle and genuine and out of the blue, the one thing he swore he'd never ask comes tumbling out of his traitorous mouth. It's true, he can't keep a secret, even from himself.

"Did he know who you were?"

Too late, he realizes how much he doesn't want to hear the answer, any answer. "-wait, don't, I don't have the right to ask."

Her face is a tangle of too many emotions for him to decipher. There's anger at his question, which is fair, and a whole world of sorrow, which is new and unsettling, and- "...the baby will be up soon. You should go."

"Gone," he says, and he is, in too many ways to count.

{end}

Liv is reading "If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him!", the book Peter told her was his favorite.

Purely for my own satisfaction, I hope that Lincoln does follow up on the list he asked Alt!Astrid to generate, and that he dangles Brandonate out a high window to get some answers.


	4. Worlds Collide

Worlds Collide

by 'rith

Fandom: Fringe

Characters: Fringe cast. Assumes previous Alt!Lincoln/Fauxlivia/Alt!Charlie (and Alt!Lincoln/Olivia/Alt!Charlie while she thought she was Fauxlivia in Red'verse).  
>Rating: PG-13<p>

Wordcount: ~4,200

Spoilers: "6:02 AM EST," "The Last Sam Weiss", and "The Day We Died". Goes massively AU somewhere in the middle of those, because I could not leave that ending for an entire summer.

Summary: It's not as much an investigation as a rescue, and then it's something else entirely.

Notes: Sequel to Paradigm Shift and Cracks in the Foundation. Some dialogue from "6:02 AM EST." Considerable liberty taken with who is in the "bridge room" at the moment the world changes; see the end for more notes.

The list proves useless, after all. Oh, the names lay out as he expected, but questioning their owners is above both Lincoln's security clearance and his pay grade. And Dr. Brandon Fayette, the "person of interest" he most wanted to talk to, is suddenly sequestered for a top-secret project of some kind that has all of Liberty Island on virtual lockdown.

So with nothing else to do he and Charlie bide their time, catch up on paperwork, run standard ops. A couple of weeks later Liv comes back to work, and things settle back into a normal rhythm-or as close to "normal" as they get in Fringe Division.

And then there's a huge energy spike at Liberty, a class 10 Fringe event of the world-shattering readings kind, only when they get there all the teams are told by the Secretary himself that it's nothing, it's a false alarm, they should all go home.

The lies are becoming as thin as the world around them. They can *see* the readings on the meters, clearly something huge is going on, but all Lincoln can do is grind his teeth and glare across the water until Liv says, "I think I know who to ask."

If they're going to get answers, it's the only place to start: with Liv's now-familial connection to the Secretary of Defense. Lincoln advises her to tread carefully but she just grins that impish grin of hers and says "Don't worry!", as if that's possible, and she's off into the lion's den.

It's afternoon when she returns, and she'd called ahead to meet Lincoln and Charlie in a bar away from their usual stomping grounds. No agents here, no eavesdroppers willing to get close to their too-tense conversation. Lincoln's not paranoid by nature, but he can't help but think that not meeting at any of their apartments or standard haunts might cut down on the possibility of potential listening devices.

Liv lays it out for them, hands shaking, and it's clearly one of those times that despite her distaste for alcohol, she really could use a drink. She tells them about the cause of the surge, and how she's in part responsible for it, and what it means for that other world.

She tells them without saying that Secretary Bishop is insane, and that billions of lives are now in their hands.

"What's our next move?" Charlie asks, and just like that they're committed, no more discussion.

Liv, of course, has it all plotted out. It's a mad plan, crazy and dangerous, and Lincoln just stares at her when she first lays it out. "You'll just...*make* them send you to the other side? How, exactly?"

"Charm school lessons. I knew they'd come in handy someday," Liv quips, and Charlie laughs with her like he believes it, but Lincoln's head is too full of everything that might go wrong.

"How do you know it'll even work? And if they catch you, Liv, they'll-"

"*If* they catch me they won't shoot me on the spot, like they'd shoot you," she says bluntly, and it's a little too on-point not to be true. "I don't know that it'll work, but we've got to try something. And Peter's the only one I can think of that the Secretary might listen to."

There's something in her eyes when she mentions Peter Bishop, something he doesn't want to look at too closely. Clearly he was more than just part of Liv's mission on the other side, and that's...he doesn't know what it is, and frankly, things are too dire for him to be wasting brain space on it at the moment.

So they're sitting here, plotting treason, and then Charlie says, "There's some guys I think we can trust, let me call around." That's a marker he's been holding on to for a long time with his old FBI colleagues, the ones who weren't pleased to be shunted aside when Fringe Division became the star of the show. He doesn't need to say that he's calling them in as backup in case Liv's attempt fails, because the three of them understand that they're suddenly in a race to save a world, maybe two worlds, and it's all in or nothing.

Charlie goes to make his calls and he and Liv head back to her apartment and send the nanny away. Lincoln can hear her singing to Henry in the bedroom (and Liv is great at a lot of things, but a singer she is not) while he waits for the baby to settle. He's looking at a picture of the two of them together when she comes back out. "Remember this?"

"Yeah. That was my first commendation."

"Yeah, for dragging my ass out of a class 4 vortex." He'd nearly died that day. Not the first or the last time on this job, but one of the hairiest moments. Liv, newly recruited but fearless, had gone in after him while everyone else was already starting to think about funeral arrangements.

Liv laughs. "Well, you actually owed me fifty bucks, so I was going for your wallet."

He smiles at the deflection and puts the picture back on the shelf. "Seems like a million years ago." By the look she's giving him she already knows what he's going to say, but he has to give it one more shot. "You can't do this alone, Liv. Let me come with you."

"As much as I would love to have you watching my butt, I need you here. Now if I'm not back tomorrow, you're gonna take Henry to my mother's, right?"

He can't hear that, can't even think it. "You're coming back."

Her smile is full of yes, but. "Yeah, but if I don't, I need to know that he's safe. You're the only one that I trust."

He wants to kiss her, very badly, and deflects the impulse by mentioning his least favorite subject. "You really think Peter Bishop can stop this? That he can heal both worlds?"

By her tone, she's grasping at straws too. He supposes that she's got even more incentive, these days. "I don't know, but if anyone can change the Secretary's mind and get him to turn that machine off, then it's his son, right?"

Right. She's determined, and all he can do is send her off with all the confidence he can muster. "I'll see you when you get back."

She hugs him-too long and not long enough-and then she's gone and he's on babysitting duty pending her return. It's a long, long night, but at least the kid sleeps through most of it.

The next day when he doesn't hear from her, when she doesn't come back, Lincoln does as he was bid and takes Henry to Marilyn's place. He can't answer any of her questions, only tells her to keep alert for Fringe events in the area. "Liv's on a case" doesn't really cover it, but it's at least marginally true and keeps Marilyn from worrying that her daughter's gone missing again. At least this time, Lincoln knows exactly where she's being held.

He meets up with Charlie at headquarters so they can both pick up the gear they're going to need. Both of them are on edge, so wired that Lincoln almost pulls a gun when Agent Farnsworth appears behind them in the weapons locker.

There's no dissembling about their intent, but as it turns out, they don't need to. Agent Farnsworth stares over their heads and says in that calm, reasonable tone of hers, "Based on the available data I calculated there was a 76% chance that Agent Dunham would try to stop the Secretary by using her family connection. There was a 94% chance that she would fail and be incarcerated, and following that, a 100% chance that you and Agent Francis would try to rescue her."

"We're that predictable, huh?" Lincoln tries to joke but it goes over the mentat's head, as usual, and she ignores the comment as unimportant, also as usual.

"Considering the escalation of Fringe events and the Secretary's erratic state of mind of late, I determined that I should join you." Farnsworth actually looks at him-she even tries to meet his eyes, which he knows takes a considerable effort-before her gaze slides away again. "Let me help, sir."

He's a sucker for anyone who calls him "sir" and means it, and besides, they can use all the help they can get. "Welcome aboard, Agent Farnsworth."

"Thank you, Captain Lee," she responds formally, and checks her sidearm.

Lincoln's badge gets them part of the way, and Charlie's friends expertly handle the rest; they're mad, bad, and dangerous to know, but they understand their business, and manage to get the group over to Liberty Island and deep inside the complex without bloodshed.

They find the room with the machine, making their way by the unearthly sound the thing's emitting. Lincoln peers around to see the Secretary, Dr. Fayette, and-hey, conveniently Liv is there, wearing a generic white lab coverall but despite that crime against fashion, seeming otherwise unharmed. He nods to Charlie and Farnsworth, motions to the other guys to hold their position, and the three of them move into the room as one.

The Secretary looks up, face already filling with outrage, but the howl from the machine and Fayette's increasingly frantic gesticulations draw his attention back to the monitors.

Despite the tension Liv smirks at them. "Nice rescue," she says, and then there's a flash of light and the world

slides

sideways.

They're standing in the same room, but the number of people in it seems to have doubled between one blink and the next. There's a man suspended in the giant humming machine, with a blonde woman standing on a ladder next to him. Lincoln has to blink a couple of times and look again but yes, that's Olivia, it must be the other side's Olivia, because Liv is still standing next to the Secretary. Who is glaring daggers at *his* double, and the headache that started with the flash is now threatening to engulf Lincoln's entire body.

The man in the machine-this can only be the fabled Peter Bishop-steps down and in-between the identical Bishops before they can come to blows. (Only they're not really identical. Lincoln can see differences in bearing, clothing, and attitude before they even open their mouths.) He's saying something about "first people," and making a bridge, and-

**.-. . - . .-. / ...- .- -. .. ... ... . ... .-.-.-**

The two Bishops are shouting at each other and the blonde Olivia cuts in with the first thing that's made sense since the flash. "Whatever you've both done, we're here now. So maybe it's time we start to fix it. This place," she says, raising her voice so that it carries throughout the room, "it's a bridge. Not in either world, but attached to both. Neutral ground."

Next to him, Charlie murmurs, "That's her."

"Yeah." And there are more important things going on, literally world-shattering things, but maybe he and Charlie will have the chance to make their...apologies...after all. Before he can move, though, at his other side Farnsworth abruptly keens and doubles over, clutching at her head.

"!"

As he leans over, trying to calm her-because dammit, she's essentially a human computer and all the logic in the world just broke-he hears her voice.

"Is she- is she all right?"

Lincoln glances up and is still looking at Farnsworth's face. Except it's not *his* mentat but her double, who easily meets his eyes. "Autistic," he says shortly, because it's the easiest explanation, and the other Farnsworth's face goes soft with understanding and compassion. It's a lovely expression and one he's never seen on this face.

"My brother is, in- in my world," she says softly, and does his Farnsworth have a brother? He's ashamed that he doesn't even know. "I'm Astrid. Maybe I can help?"

It's so kindly offered that he can't help but nod and scoot back. As she kneels down, taking her alternate's hands, she flashes him a sweet smile-and a disconcerted, uncertain one toward Charlie.

"Feels like something just crawled over my grave, buddy," Charlie says sotto voce, and by reflex-because both of them need something reflexively normal right now-in tandem they both retort at each other: "Not worms!"

And shit, if they didn't have enough to worry about. "Your shots, how long can you-"

"Always carry a couple of spares," Charlie assures him, and that's when another voice, one Lincoln hadn't expected to hear again, cracks out across the room, commanding all attention.

"All right, people! Obviously we're in the middle of an extraordinary event. Let's all step back and take a deep breath." Again by reflex Lincoln obeys and sees Charlie doing the same-except that it's not Colonel Broyles but his double, lacking the military pips. But otherwise the tone is the same, impossible to disobey. "Dr. Bishop and-Dr. Bishop, I presume," Broyles says, looking like he can't stand the taste of the words coming out of his mouth, "Agent Dunham is correct. In either world you're the best hope we've got of saving *both* our universes. Let's make that happen."

Both Bishops look like they're sucking on lemons but with more urging from Olivia-and with Liv looking on, that coolly amused look that Lincoln knows so well never leaving her face-the two of them finally stop snarling at each other and start trading information in sharp, clipped tones.

Farnsworth looks like she's calmed down too, and after exchanging a nod with Astrid to make sure she's got his agent in hand, Lincoln feels it's time to really get this cross-universal party started.

"Let's go introduce ourselves to the man in charge." Charlie glances at him but doesn't comment, and that's fine. If Charlie thinks he sounds a little too eager to cede authority-well, maybe he is. But they've got enough problems without chain-of-command pissing matches and Lincoln figures that Broyles outranks him. In any universe.

They cross the room and on the way, Lincoln decides to stick with the safest, most likely address. "Agent Broyles, I'm Captain Lee of Fringe Division. This is-"

"Agent Francis," Broyles says, with that same unsettled expression Astrid wore. "Excuse me, I- It's a little startling, seeing you."

"I'm starting to get that feeling, sir," Charlie says, easily enough, but Lincoln can hear the tension in his voice. "Can you tell me what happened to, uh, me?"

"Murdered by a shapeshifter," Broyles says with a hard look in his eyes, "who took his place for a while before Agent Dunham put it down."

"...fucking hell," Charlie curses, and turns to Lincoln with outrage on his face. "I *knew* I hated those things."

Relentlessly, Broyles continues, "And I was presented with the smoldering corpse of your version of myself, so-"

"*Goddammit,*" Lincoln swears, and grinds his teeth for a moment before he can go on. "Sorry, sir. We- we didn't know, we weren't sure what happened to him. He vanished about the same time as your Olivia went back. And Charlie and I didn't know about that swap either until after the fact."

Broyles' expression has melted, slightly, from the stony fa ade. "Sounds like there's a lot your side has been keeping from you, Captain."

"We've been told a lot of things," he replies evenly, "starting from the idea that your side set out to destroy ours on purpose."

"I can assure you that's not-" Broyles starts, and then sighs. "Look, Captain Lee, there's clearly been a lot of misunderstandings-*and* some unfortunate deliberate actions-on both sides. There's a lot of damage in this room. But it's our responsibility to fix it, because there's no one else."

And the hell of it is, Lincoln is feeling worse and worse because the more facts come to light, the more obvious that it's his side-it's Secretary Bishop, to be specific-who misled them all and did most of that damage, to their Olivia and Charlie and his own Colonel Broyles. And judging by the way the blonde Olivia (he's going to assign mental codenames to keep everyone straight, any second now) is glaring at Brandon Fayette, Lincoln's theories about his involvement are right on target as well. "There's nothing we want more, sir," he tells Broyles, who nods in acknowledgement.

"Good. Your agent there, is she all right?"

Lincoln turns back to see Farnsworth getting to her feet, still holding Astrid's hand but looking a little more stable. "I think so. The shock just threw her for a loop. She's a mentat, kind of a super-analyst. She should be able to help sort data, once we establish what we're dealing with." He pauses, fights briefly with his own impulsive mouth, and loses the battle as usual. "Just out of, uh, curiosity, do you know anything about my alternate?"

Broyles raises an eyebrow, but answers evenly. "He's an FBI agent out of Hartford. Agent Lee worked with Fringe Division on one case, but otherwise, he's not involved with this. Is it important that he be here?"

Which in any universe is Broyles-speak for, we have actual work to do, and you playing footsie with your double isn't on my radar. And, fair enough. "No, sir."

"And your scientist there-that's Brandon Fayette, isn't it. It's my understanding that he tried to vivisect my agent while she was in your world." The hard tone is back and Lincoln can't fault him for it. He'd already guessed that Fayette was behind their Olivia's brainwashing; the new information that he'd tried to cut her open doesn't surprise him in the least.

But if there's justice to be done, it's going to have to wait until the current crisis is over. Lincoln turns to see Fayette doing his best impression of a wall, looking everywhere but at the people in the room. "Yeah. He's been working with Secretary Bishop on the machine. I'll make sure he contributes." And Broyles nods again, approvingly, at the tone in Lincoln's voice that says, by any means necessary. As far as he's concerned both Bishop and Fayette are on the hook for-war crimes? crimes against humanity?-but that's going to have to wait.

He looks around and sees both Astrids working over the computer consoles. The technicians on both sides have already sorted themselves into one homogeneous group-eggheads everywhere speak the same language. Lincoln notes that most of them aren't doubles, which is interesting and something they can all muse about later. He and Charlie make a brief circuit around, stopping briefly at Fayette. "You. Go help. Keep your knives to yourself this time."

Fayette gives him a terrified look, but obeys and scurries across the room to his master. The blonde Olivia watches him and after a glance at the Bishops she steps away, her hand clenching like she wants to take a swing at him. She looks around the room and catches Lincoln's eye. Her mouth opens slightly, like she's about to say something, and then she shakes her head and walks over.

"Hi."

"Hi," Lincoln says, and his brain goes flat empty, because- what the hell can he say to her?

"Glad you're all right," Charlie says, and it's just the right thing, as usual.

She smiles, and it's warm. "Me too. I- guess you heard about what happened to my Charlie, in my world. I couldn't say before, obviously, but- it was really good working with you, over there. Like old times."

Charlie sounds way too calm about all this. "So you and your Charlie...?"

"No!" She actually laughs a little, like the very idea is ludicrous. "God, no. He was my mentor, my friend. And married," she adds, "extremely married."

"So just like old times, except you didn't count on-" Lincoln bursts out, and takes a long, slow breath to calm himself and lower his voice. "We felt terrible about it, when we found out about the swap." He can't even look her in the eye. "I didn't know," he says. "I thought you were her."

"Oh," she says. "Oh, no." She reaches forward to take his hand, and extends her other to Charlie. "I don't blame either of you."

He's staring at their entwined hands when he says, "We had no idea."

"Your Walter Bishop is very good at what he does." The tight tone of her voice brings his eyes back to her face. "He's the one who turned me into your Olivia, and he did a good enough job that I didn't know myself. So how could you?"

"I'm sorry," he mutters again, and she squeezes his hand.

Olivia smiles at him, and he sees a faint blush spread across her cheeks. "I'm not. It's a- it's a good memory."

That's more than forgiveness in her face, it's-

Before he can parse her expression Liv comes up behind them and drapes her arms over his and Charlie's shoulders. "Hey," she drawls, "just because you...*borrowed*...them while you were on my side, doesn't mean you get to play with 'em again."

Olivia goes pale and drops their hands. Lincoln loves Liv with all he's got, but he's never liked her less than in that moment. Maybe it's true, seeing yourself mirrored can only bring out the worst.

That goes both directions, evidently. "How's Frank?"

And wow, Lincoln doesn't even have to turn around to see Liv's countenance go cold. But she rebounds fast. "Nice try, but I know he was away the whole time you were being me. He's still awesome, though. We're engaged."

"Huh. Well, congratulations, I guess." Olivia pauses, then raises an eyebrow. "So then you're just being, what? Greedy? Territorial?"

"Okay then!" Charlie says sharply and decisively before the verbal bloodletting goes any deeper, and shrugs Liv's arm off their shoulders. "Cut it out, both of you."

...and thank God for him, because standing between the two Olivias, Lincoln's brain really did stop working for a moment. They hadn't talked about the engagement, much, and certainly not what it meant for the three of them. He'd assumed, and guessed Charlie did too, that their post-mission "debriefs" (as in, everyone's briefs come off, because they are all five) were over. He hadn't allowed himself to think about it.

And he's just discovered that apparently, he's irrevocably wired for Olivia Dunham. In any universe.

"...right," he says belatedly, and desperate to change the subject. "How's it going with the Bishops?"

Olivia nods a little and looks relieved to get back to the business at hand. "They've stopped trying to kill each other for the moment, so that's something."

Charlie's still got his back. "And this, uh, bridge thing?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I explained to the Walters." Olivia turns to check on them and Lincoln shifts a little to bring Liv in on the conversation. "I'm...it turns out I'm kind of a 'crowbar' for the machine. I was able to pry it open so it can't do any more damage. This room is a side-effect, a bubble suspended between universes. If you go out that door-" she points to the side where Lincoln and Charlie appeared- "you'll be in your world. The other door leads to mine."

"All that and super-powers too," Liv says, and there's something in her voice Lincoln's never heard before. Insecurity? Jealousy?

"But handy," Charlie says. "We won't even miss the Thursday night poker game."

Lincoln's still stuck on the details. "And you're sure this room won't...pop like a bubble?"

"Near as we can tell, it's permanent," Olivia says, "at least until the machine is accessed again, hopefully to turn it off for good."

"Guys, I just remembered-" they all turn to Liv to see a catlike grin spread across her face. "They have *coffee* over there, the real stuff. No Blight. We could make a fortune bringing it over!"

They all laugh, mostly as a relief from the tension, and Liv winks at him. It's as much apology as anything and an unspoken promise to behave, at least as much as she's able.

But if this is going to be a permanent thing, he's got some fast talking to do-starting with letting his side know that the Secretary of Defense hasn't gone missing. There's probably a meeting with the National Security Council in his immediate future and even as he's wincing at the thought, part of him knows his father would be proud.

"Okay, I have boss-type stuff to do. Charlie, hold down the fort."

"You got it, sir."

He's pretty sure the "sir" is for Olivia's benefit-both Olivias, come to think-but he appreciates it anyway.

"This is just the beginning," Olivia says, meeting his eyes, and the sudden warmth he feels is both inappropriate and undeniable.

And, yeah. A walk back to his own universe to clear his head sounds like the perfect antidote right now. The fact that "walk back to his own universe" is actually a sane and possible course of action might just be proof he's been working at Fringe Division for too long but this? He wouldn't have missed this for anything. It feels like they have the chance to stop reacting and start acting to fix everything that's gone wrong with both worlds. "Can't wait to see what happens next," he tells her, tells all of them, and heads out to make sure they have that chance.

{end; tbc}

The break line is Morse Code for "Peter vanishes." I couldn't help myself.

Astrid wasn't in the machine room during "The Day We Died", but I felt she needed to be, since she's no less involved than the rest of them. My fanwank for this fic: After Charlie's death and without Peter, Olivia really needed another partner in the field. Astrid filled that role and Walter has another poor, mistreated junior agent back at the lab to be his babysitter.

And I fought really, really hard and won against the impulse to insert Agent Lee into that spot. This fic was already total emo-porn for me; putting Blue!Lincoln in would have pushed it over the top. OTOH, if that's the role he's going to fill come fourth season, I reserve the right to remix this fic with Lincoln added. *g*

Without Peter, Fauxlivia wouldn't have been pregnant, so there's no reason she would have broken up with Frank, and Lincoln didn't confess his love.

Also, I totally cribbed lines from a previous fic of mine, because I didn't realize when I wrote "Someone Borrowed" that it was a warm-up/outline for this.

...I didn't actually mean for the fic to go to the Lincoln/Olivia place, but apparently, I just can't help it. (And now I am wincing that I have written myself into a corner, because: what happens when Peter inevitably reappears, and Olivia remembers him again?)

From series bosses Jeff Pinkner and J.H. Wyman, about the "bridge": moving forward, that room inside the Statue of Liberty will serve as "sort of an airlock" via which VIPs can cross to and fro. "You go out one door and you're in our universe; you go out the other door and you're in theirs." I love this more than possibly can be expressed and cannot *wait* for canon to use it.

Finally, I hope you're all writing bridgefic too. Please, pretty please?


	5. Bridge Variations: Resolutions

Bridge Variations: Resolutions

by 'rith

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Lincoln Lee. Assumes previous Alt!Lincoln/Fauxlivia/Alt!Charlie (and Alt!Lincoln/Olivia/Alt!Charlie while she thought she was Fauxlivia in Red'verse).  
>Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: ~900 Spoilers: Post-s3 finale.<br>Summary: Lincoln's moving forward.  
>Notes: First of the "Bridge Variations" fics, spinning off from "Worlds Collide" in the Quantum Entanglements series.<p>

Lincoln sweats his way through the NSC debrief. Part of the problem is he can't really say all he wants to about Secretary Bishop-as far as the senior advisors are concerned the other world is a threat, and Bishop has long been empowered to take all necessary liberties to deal with that threat. It's the same latitude that's resulted in thousands of citizens being entombed in amber, and while they truly don't have any other solutions at hand, he can't help but wonder if something better might have been found in the twenty years since the technique was first employed.

He's not sure how much it would matter, either, if they knew the truth. Crimes against citizens of another world aren't exactly covered by the legal codes, and even the one he committed on this government's ground-the murder of Colonel Broyles-would probably be covered over with Broyles being accused of treason in retrospect. It's an obscene thought but Lincoln sees exactly how it would go, and he just can't bring himself to put Diane and Chris through that.

The other part of the problem is he can't wait to get back to the bridge room, to check on Charlie and Liv and Farnsworth-and yeah, the other Olivia, who he can't get out of his mind.

And that's completely ridiculous, even for him. She said herself the room was a bubble, temporary until they figure out how to reverse the machine and stop the Fringe events. Plus even *thinking* about her makes him feel disloyal to Liv, although that's dumb on more levels than he can count. Liv's been with Frank since before Lincoln ever met her and never given him any indication that she regards him as anything more than a friend, a comrade in arms, and a poseable sex toy. Granted that last blurs the issue, but they all went into the arrangement eyes open and he can't kick too much about it-especially since he's the one who broke the spirit of the agreement by falling for her.

The other Olivia isn't Liv, and expecting her to be in any way like his Liv is...kind of like expecting identical twins separated at birth to end up with the same personalities. She's just someone who happens to look like Liv. That's all.

Except for the fact that he's already been intimate with her, even if neither of them knew who she was at the time. (Her forgiveness, unexpected and unearned, took a huge burden of guilt off his soul.) And that look on her face, the hint in her eye that she remembered it too, and maybe wouldn't mind making another memory-

If *that* was all, hell, Lincoln had never been particularly discriminating about that kind of thing. Granted he hasn't dated much since he and Charlie and Liv started their partnership-with-benefits deal, but back in the Academy and in his early days at Fringe Division before Liv joined, he'd had more opportunities for casual hook-ups than even he'd been able to take advantage of. Fringe operatives were celebrities of a kind, hero-worshiped by those who followed the freak events (and there were an awful lot of those, these days, both events and followers). A Fringe Division badge guaranteed free drinks and offers of sex for "our heroes" pretty much everywhere they went. Lincoln had tried to be discreet, for the sake of his father's reputation if nothing else, but the badge-chasers were persistent and he'd never had a lot of incentive to say no.

But hooking up with someone from another universe seems like such a spectacularly bad idea, he doesn't even need Charlie to say it. Particularly in light of the "We're counting on you to keep an eye on things, Captain Lee" instruction, the unspoken directive to watch the people from the other side in case this was all some kind of trick or nefarious plot.

So, yeah. Bad idea for any number of reasons. And if he's going to keep his distance from that Olivia, it's probably time to start...reestablishing some boundaries with Liv, too. He wants to be able to be happy for her, Frank's a good guy, and Lincoln doesn't have a lot of taboos but not sleeping with married people is a line he'd drawn ages ago. (Not worth the hassle dealing with irate spouses-although in one memorable instance, the husband was mad only because he hadn't been invited.)

He's starting to feel like this whole event, this meeting of worlds, is a giant sign for him, personally, to take a hard look at his life. Healthy egotism aside, it's pretty clear that things are going to change-even if it's just Liv being married, or at the extreme if they do manage to put a stop to the Fringe events and Lincoln finds himself out of a job. He can't think of anything he wants more for his world, and at the same time, he can't imagine his life otherwise. Sure, his skills wouldn't go to waste, but-

He's getting way, way ahead of himself. First things first: back to the bridge room to get an update on the situation. Make sure that the Secretary and Fayette are keeping on task. Bring their Broyles up to speed and find out what kind of flak he's getting from his end. Talk to Charlie, maybe.

When Lincoln goes back into the bridge room and hears Olivia laugh, at least one of his resolutions dissolves into air.

{end}


	6. Bridge Variations: Confrontation

Bridge Variations: Confrontation

by 'rith

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Olivia, Fauxlivia. Assumes previous Alt!Lincoln/Fauxlivia/Alt!Charlie.  
>Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: ~2,200 Spoilers: Post-s3 finale, in a rush before being jossed by s4.<br>Summary: Face to face again.  
>Notes: "Bridge Variations" fic, spinning off from "Worlds Collide" in the Quantum Entanglements series. Takes place concurrently with "Resolutions," while Lincoln's out of the bridge room.<p>

All day the other woman has been looking at her through cat's eyes, amused and wary, and more green than Olivia's own; a trick of makeup and hair color. It had taken longer than Olivia wanted for the dye to fade when she came back to her own world and she'd secretly liked it, appreciated how the red-brown strands framed her face and made her features sharper. But keeping the color would have been admitting that she admired something about her alternate and it was just too much of a reminder of her time on the other side.

But now they're standing in the same room, on what she assertively (perhaps impulsively, since she had no real basis for the statement but her instinct) declared was neutral ground, and if this is going to work at all Olivia has to set the example and manage some kind of peace. It's the last thing she wants to do with the woman who stole her life, but there's no getting around the necessity.

She's never liked looking into mirrors. Olivia takes a long breath and crosses the room to her double.

"Well now," the woman who goes by 'Liv' says, deceptively soft. It's a tactic Olivia knows, an invitation for the other party (suspect, usually) to open up. But this isn't an interrogation and Olivia isn't much interested in sparring.

She opens the...discussion...just like a briefing, like she's instructing another agent. Which is accurate enough, all other considerations notwithstanding. "We're going to have to work together. Since we're the ones who know the most about each other's sides, we'll have to translate for the others."

"Mmm-hmmm." The other woman looks agreeable, almost entertained by the situation. But she doesn't react further, so Olivia goes on.

"Obviously we have our own agendas, but there are larger issues at stake here-"

"C'mon," Liv interrupts. "You know it, I know it. Worlds ending, cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria. Everyone will play nice until we fix it."

The smug tone crawls right under her skin and makes it impossible to keep cool. "It seems," Olivia retorts before she can stop herself, "that we have entirely different definitions of 'playing nice.' I'm told you killed a woman, going back to your universe. Did you leave behind any other corpses I should know about?"

"That's classified." Liv glares back, defiant. "I was on a mission to save my world. Tell me you wouldn't do *anything* you thought was necessary to save yours."

It's more than slightly mortifying to have been the one to snap first, considering that all this time Olivia has been thinking of herself as the one responsible for this meeting of worlds and therefore responsible for making sure that the people involved cooperate with each other. But it makes sense that no one can bate her like this mirror twin, who's lived her life and knows precisely which buttons to push. Liv seems incongruously gratified by Olivia's lack of self-control, and since her comment is incontestable, Olivia puts it aside and tries to get back on track.

"*My point is,*" Olivia manages through slightly gritted teeth, "we have to be able to trust each other."

With an expression of unholy glee, Liv tilts her head and drawls, "You gotta trust me. I'm *you.*"

And oh, her own words thrown back in her face makes Olivia want to reenact the fight they'd had when they first met. Liv sees it and her lips peel back in a feral grin. "Any time you want to go again, sweetheart, I'm game."

Sometime in the past, she can't place who or when, someone else had called her "sweetheart" with that mocking tone of voice and she didn't like it any more now than she had then. And civility doesn't seem to be working here, anyway. "You sure about that? Last time, it didn't go so well for you."

"'cause you *cheated.*" Liv's voice drips with contempt and outrage but her body language is relaxing, instinctively knowing-as Olivia does-that this isn't the time or place. "But you go on believing whatever lets you sleep at night."

"I'm sleeping fine, now that I've had all my sheets replaced. And my clothes."

Liv snorts and nods toward Olivia's shirt. "Too bad you didn't take the opportunity to buy something with an actual color in it." She leans in and whispers, "I drew the line at tossing out all the underwear. And the bedroom toys. 'cause I figured, without Frank around, you were needing stress relief. I should've guessed you'd hook up with my boys, though."

This tops the list of ithings she is not discussing/i with her alternate. She's never really had a friend to giggle over boys with-even if she was theoretically inclined to giggle-and Olivia is not about to start with this woman, certainly not a friend, who already knows too much about her.

But Liv's on a roll and she goes on, not backing down in the least, "Imagine how surprised I was to get over to your side and find out you didn't have so much as a fuck buddy. I was *lonely.*"

And it's too much, Olivia can't contain the distress that spills out at the thought of what her double might have done, wearing her face-

Liv grins, her triumph complete. "Oh, relax, I was on-mission, didn't hook up with anyone while I was here. Couple of clubs I visited, might know 'you.' But I didn't do anything more than flirt with some pretty boys. You really don't have any kind of life, do you?"

It's really only Liv's presence that triggered the momentary doubt. When she'd returned to her own universe, Olivia had scoured her life for damage her mirror double might have caused. The most telling sign that anything was different was the change in takeout orders; Liv liked her Indian food spicier than Olivia preferred. She still hasn't entirely processed how she feels about being replaced so smoothly, even by another version of herself.

She also doesn't have a satisfactory answer to the question, at least not one that won't invite more mockery, so deflection is the only option here. "Can't jeopardize my secret identity."

Liv stares, then giggles slightly, and-what was she just thinking, about giggling? So strange to see a demonstration on her own face. "Right, right. You're just lacking tights and a mask. But seriously...how can you work with Walter, after what he did to you?"

"How can you work with yours, after what he did to *you*?" Olivia shoots back, and maybe she's retained some of her double's aim after all, because the barb hits home. Gratifying to know her intuition hasn't failed. "And yes, it was awfully convenient for your sake that Frank was out of town, because if he'd been home..."

"Yeah," Liv mutters, and grimaces like she's bitten something sour. "All right, enough of that. So look...I wanted to say, you helped catch the guy who hurt Colonel Broyles' son. Thanks, for that."

It's not at all what she was expecting and it shakes her, the way this distorted mirror image of herself can turn from cruel to sincere on a dime. "I'm...very sorry your Broyles was killed."

"He made his choice to help you. The consequences are on him, not you." Liv blows out a long breath. "And the fact that he did that, risked and gave his life for you, goes a long way with me."

Olivia nods, taking the comment for a worth yet to be determined. And if they're back to polite again, she can play along. "How's Chris doing?"

"Fine. He's fine," Liv says, a little too quickly, and Olivia finds it interesting that she can't lie worth a damn. She obviously hasn't followed up with the boy at all, which seems...insensitive, considering Chris has now lost his father too. Olivia's memories of Liv's typical manner-thankfully muted now, fading with time-suggest the disregard is not at all unusual. The boy was out of sight, and therefore out of mind. "Speaking of kids, I made excuses not to visit Rachel and Ella. Didn't think I could handle seeing them." She stares off into the distance for a second and then adds, "And you know kids, they're little lie detectors. I didn't want to chance having Ella blow my cover. I wish I'd been able to risk it, though."

Olivia wonders if she had, and if Ella had detected the substitution, if this other woman (nothing like her) would have murdered Rachel and Ella to keep her secret. She'd said herself, she'd have done anything necessary to succeed at her mission.

But the admission is clearly an attempt at a peace offering, and Olivia feels obligated to volunteer something in return. "I was...glad for the chance to see mom. It was good getting to know her as an adult, for a little while."

She'd made excuses to visit, arranged a lot of lunch dates when there wasn't a Fringe case immediately pressing. Mom-no, *Marilyn*-had seemed happy that Olivia wanted to spend so much time with her. Her implanted memories told her that Liv usually didn't spend that much time with her mother, so Olivia's subconscious wishes must have been overriding the imposed behavior.

Among the many things Olivia hadn't discussed with her colleagues when she returned from the other universe was the fact that she'd spent a few long nights weeping over having lost her mother, again.

"I hated that they replaced me," Liv says, sharply. "I didn't know they were gonna do that. But I guess...it's better that she had you around, those couple of months. She's been fragile since Rachel died, my Rachel, and it might've been worse if her family had been gone altogether."

They stare at each other for a long moment, neither wanting to give ground, but Olivia feels that they're on the verge of a truce and it's not too much to admit she liked something about the other side, in spite of everything.

"I enjoyed being a dead shot." She hadn't retained that perfection of precision, although she thinks the ability might not be impossible to recapture. It's more about the frame of mind than anything, the absolute purity of focus, and-disconcerting, now that she thinks about it-not dissimilar to the process of accessing her Cortexiphan abilities.

"You- that's something you got from my memories? That seems weird, doesn't it? Unless 'muscle memory' is transferrable too." Liv chuckles slightly. "Could've saved myself hours on the shooting range, huh."

"I wouldn't recommend the process," Olivia says dryly, and they don't quite smile in tandem.

Liv sounds almost friendly when she says, "You know what I've been missing? Besides the coffee. I wish I'd had time to grab some U2 discs when I left. We don't have them on my side, and I really liked their music."

Olivia has no reason in this world or any other to do favors for this woman, but...in the interest of interplanetary relationships, the request is harmless enough. "I can get those for you."

"That'd be great." Liv slaps her hands down on her thighs, a definitive motion. "Okay. So we're clear, right? No more glaring across the room, no catfight. No matter how much Lincoln and Charlie want to watch."

"We're clear," Olivia says softly, not entirely believing it-no more than Liv does, obviously. But *professional,* they can both do, despite her alternate's more casual demeanor.

"'kay. I think Charlie wants to talk to me, he has that look on his face." They both turn and catch him staring at them; he waves, belatedly, and shifts his attention down to his coffee cup.

"It's good seeing him again, too," Olivia says, and Liv blinks at her, not processing, and then she gets it.

"Yeah. Your team's great and all, but I really missed my guys," Liv says, and strides away toward her partner, hair and hips swinging, apparently content at having had the last word.

Olivia's content to let her. It's not a competition-she's determined that it not become one. She's also pretty sure a psychiatrist would have two worlds' worth of field days with the dynamics here, and how much Olivia finds herself alternately appreciating and loathing her alternate self. Never mind the entire question of nature-vs.-nurture.

But as long as their two worlds are connected they have no choice but to find accord, somehow. Olivia thinks it's possible as long as she remembers her time on the other side, and how her style of investigation and Liv's weren't so different after all. They both know how to get things done, and will despite all obstacles.

Something nags at the back of her mind and she can't help a smile when she places the floating thought, a song lyric, when she usually doesn't even pay attention to the radio: "We're one, but we're not the same." And of course, it'd be the U2 that Liv had mentioned.

Not the same. But close enough to feel secure that they have the same goals in this, no matter how much their personalities might differ. Olivia Dunham of both worlds is on the case and between them-even if she never says as much to her alternate-she's pretty sure there's nothing they can't accomplish.

The fate of both worlds depends on it.


	7. Bridge Variations: Evolution

Bridge Variations: Evolution

by 'rith

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Lincoln Lee, alt!Charlie, Astrid. Assumes previous Alt!Lincoln/Fauxlivia/Alt!Charlie (and Alt!Lincoln/Olivia/Alt!Charlie while she thought she was Fauxlivia in Red'verse).  
>Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: ~2,400 Spoilers: Post-s3 finale.<br>Summary: Lincoln investigates a possibility. Charlie jumps the gun.  
>Notes: Second of the "Bridge Variations" fics, spinning off from "Worlds Collide" in the Quantum Entanglements series.<p>

During the relatively brief time he was gone, Liberty Island had been transformed from a research installation to a military outpost. Lincoln's Show Me is checked about twelve times between the ferry and the door to the bridge room, fingerprints and retinal scan at the last. Precautions, obviously, against the possibility of an invasion from the other side. Not foolproof when the alternates wear their faces (and fingerprints? Retinal patterns? He'll have to check on that), but then again, Secretary Bishop isn't going to be arranging memory transplants any time soon.

He'd insisted on being the first one through the doorway back to his universe, not only because he'd needed to make a report, but because he'd wanted to be the first one through to make sure it really was safe. He'd believed Olivia about the doors, but the team's safety was his responsibility. When he stepped through (and back again, testing) without incident, he'd seen that Charlie's guys had scattered as ordered, their jobs done.

It'd been full dark when they'd gotten to Liberty on his side, and well before dawn when he crossed back. It was afternoon before all the meetings were arranged and edging toward dusk again by the time he's finally stepping back into the island complex.

In that time they'd set up a barracks, and he sees some of the techs who'd been inside the bridge room crashed out here. Fayette's here, too, huddled into a ball in a corner. Lincoln has a quiet word with the lieutenant in charge to make sure the scientist doesn't decide to pull a runner. Considering there are at least two people in the bridge room who want a piece of him, he wouldn't put it past Fayette to try to flee.

Lincoln takes a quick headcount as he crosses over the threshold. It's quieter now, although the constant drone of the machine makes that relative. Broyles is nowhere to be seen, probably dealing with his own bureaucracy...only their side is less militarized, so he'd guess it's taking longer to move through channels.

Liv strolls up, like she's been waiting for him. "Hey, boss. I'm heading out before anyone remembers I'm supposed to be arrested. Nothing more I can do here except annoy *her*," she points a thumb back at Olivia, "and that's getting old quick." She doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"Sure. Call your mom," he says, and pauses, not sure why he'd added that.

Liv sighs. "Yeah, it's been like five seconds, she'll be worried."

"Liberty's been on the news, and she knows you're likely to be in the middle of anything weird," Lincoln retorts, and that sounds about right.

"Yeah, okay. Be back after I get some sleep," she says and heads off, seeming a little subdued. Probably just tired, and no wonder.

He grits his teeth a little and corrals Secretary Bishop for a quick, formal report. Like it or not, Bishop is still the Secretary of Defense and ultimately the head of Fringe Division. The NSC was willing to leave him to do his work here, but they're going to be demanding regular updates and that means Lincoln needs to put on his professional face. They haven't made much progress yet; the Secretary tells him with a sour expression (as far as Lincoln knows, his only expression) that they're still collating data.

"Maybe you can get a fresh start in the morning, sir," Lincoln says as tactfully as he can, and the Secretary glares before admitting that yes, he probably could use some sleep. There's some arrangements to be made with the facilities and such and Lincoln promises to see to it (actually, he's the boss, he can assign Charlie to that) before Bishop stalks off to a cot on the far side of the room. It's clear that he doesn't trust his alternate, and considering the stakes Lincoln would bet neither of them is willing to let the machine out of sight.

Olivia is talking to the other Dr. Bishop, evidently trying to convince him to take a break as well, and she smiles at Lincoln over Bishop's shoulder. He almost heads over and then swerves to intercept Charlie, who greets him and oh, he has *coffee.* He gulps at the offered mug's contents greedily and notes that Charlie is maintaining a death-grip on his own cup.

He fills Charlie in and they compare notes for a bit. Charlie's looking understandably beat but game to take on the facilitator's role. "Tomorrow," Lincoln says. "Go home, get some sleep."

Charlie fidgets a little, oddly. "Hey, you know, I was talking to Olivia. It's obvious she misses her Charlie, we were comparing notes. ...get this, they cured him."

"What- you mean the worms?"

Charlie's so distracted he doesn't even bother with the autocorrect. "Yeah. Their Dr. Bishop figured out how to poison them without killing him."

Oh. *Oh.* Lincoln had already half-dismissed the other side's technological advancement as inferior to his world's, but this... "Can they cure you?"

"Dunno. Dr. Bishop looked like he wanted to take some blood and give it a try, but...the Secretary is right, they have more important things to do."

Lincoln wants to go over and shake him but it's true, Charlie knows it, and it's just...massively unfair. It's the difference, he sees now, between the two men: the Secretary gave up most of his active research to handle Fringe events on a grand scale. The other Bishop...Lincoln doesn't know the whole story, but he's still dealing with small incursions, one at a time, and that evidently gave him the luxury to focus on their Charlie Francis's case.

"Oh, man. Charlie, maybe they'll be time- maybe we can-"

But Charlie's small, wry smile is resigned and it makes Lincoln want to cry, hug him, something. "Nah. They'll fix things, room will close, it's- it's okay, buddy."

It's not by any stretch but they can't do a damn thing- oh, they are both stupid. "Shut up. -no, shut up, come with me."

He leads Charlie over to where the two Farnsworths are still working and catches Astrid's eye. She excuses herself, her "twin" never batting an eye, and she steps around to them, looking inquisitive.

"Astrid, you've been working with Dr. Bishop all along, right?"

She tilts her head at them, adorably. "Well, for three years. If by 'working with' you mean 'cleaning up after.'"

"Okay, but- you remember a case when your Agent Francis was infected with bugs? A kind of hybrid larvae?"

"Oh, sure." Her tone is casual but the shudder, unmistakable.

"Can we get any notes from that case? Research? Information on whatever Dr. Bishop used to cure him?"

She's quick and turns to Charlie with a concerned look. "You were infected too? But- in our world, the infection killed, it wasn't...anything anyone could live with."

"Medtechs figured out how to slow them down, but not get them out," Charlie says, and Lincoln can tell he's trying not to hope too hard. "Daily injections keep them at bay. But if there's...any chance, I'd like to try it."

"Of course! I'll just need to clear it with Agent Broyles when he gets back, but I can get all of that for you." She sounds eager but there's weariness around her eyes.

Lincoln figures he needs to step in and be the boss. He's not her commander, but he'll have to do in a pinch. "It's late, go get some sleep. Agent Farnsworth!" Lincoln raises his voice a little to catch the mentat's attention. "Off-duty, now."

Astrid tilts her head again, and this time it's a question. "We have to tell her to knock off, otherwise she'll keep going 'til she drops."

She nods, then covers a yawn with a delicate hand. "Oh, excuse me. I *am* tired. And we're going to need a lot more data before we can make any headway."

"I don't think any of us thought we could fix the world in a day," he tells her with a smile, and she responds in kind. He can see already why she's a good Fringe agent; she has the same kind of unshakeable equilibrium as her counterpart, but far more empathy.

She heads off, swinging around to have a quick word with Olivia before she crosses through the doorway to her own world at nearly the same time as her alternate goes through the other. Lincoln guesses that he'll be seeing a lot of that kind of parallel in the days to come.

He turns to see Charlie giving him a look that...he's seen that expression before, but only in his apartment, and Charlie's voice is low. "No broom closet in here."

What- oh. Lincoln grins. "Rain check." And the way his brain works, that reminds him of the other topic at hand. "If you can spare a minute before you crash...I needed to talk to you about Liv."

"Lincoln..." Charlie sighs, long and pained. "Look, you know I love her too, right? But Liv...Liv is a bitch."

The words are so startling he can't say a damn thing in reply.

Charlie swipes a hand across his face like he's uneasy, but his tone is resolute. "She's got you on a string and she knows it. She and I, well, that's been going on a long time and we both know what it is and what it ain't. But you-you've been carrying a torch for her since you met. And she knows that and teases you anyway, and I'm not just talking about the sex. It was only a matter of time before she and Frank decided to tie the knot, and buddy...you deserve better than to be her back-up guy."

From Charlie it's practically a speech, and clearly a prepared one. As unexpected as it is, Charlie's words confirm what he's been feeling and that more than anything convinces Lincoln of what he needs to do.

"Believe it or not," he says slowly, "I was actually thinking along those lines myself. I should...talk to her."

And weirdly, Charlie suddenly looks...embarrassed? Guilty? "Don't shoot me. I kinda did already."

"...what?"

"Yeah. I saw your face, Linc, when she talked about Frank. She hasn't played fair with you at all. I've known her a long time and I figured, better that she's mad at me than you. So while you were gone, I told her she has to knock it off with you. And me too," he adds, like it's some kind of mutual pact, though Charlie probably has his own reasons.

That probably explained why Liv didn't look at him when she headed out. It's a huge presumption on Charlie's part, totally out of bounds, and yet...somehow it feels like a huge relief. "How'd... how'd she take that?"

Charlie blows out a breath. "Not great, but ya know, Liv's *Liv.* She'll get over it."

He'd been thinking about how his world might change but he hadn't been prepared for it, not really. "Guess I need to brush up on dating protocols, huh."

Charlie snorts disbelief at him. "Like you ever had any trouble with that. Bat those pretty eyes and you're set."

Lincoln pauses, bites his lip a little. "So, uh, you can just...buy me lunch sometime instead? On that rain check?"

"Oh, hell no." Charlie looks positively jovial. Anticipatory, even. "I pay my debts. After that, I guess...maybe it's best if we called it, too. Not that I don't enjoy molesting your carcass, but I never saw us setting up with a white picket fence, you know? ...Even if either of us survives long enough to retire, and I'm not taking bets."

It's too much, really, for one night. "Are you *dumping* me?"

Charlie peers into his face like he's looking to see if Lincoln is serious and dammit, he just can't hold a straight face. Lincoln starts wheezing, trying to hold in laughter, as Charlie rolls his eyes. "Oh, screw you, *sir*."

"One more time, at least," Lincoln murmurs, and Charlie lets out a short bark of a laugh. "So you've been thinking about the white picket fence life? With Mona, maybe?"

"It really was just tea," Charlie protests, but then adds a little sheepishly, "But yeah, it's hard enough finding someone who isn't scared off by the bugs, I should maybe try to give it a shot."

"You really should," Lincoln says, and he means it; despite Charlie's certainty about their probable life spans, it's always been Lincoln's intent that they all make it out alive. Especially now, with the resources of two worlds working on the problem, surviving their jobs has started to seem like an actual possibility.

"Yeah, all right. I'm outta here." He starts to go, pauses, turns back. "You should talk to Olivia."

Lincoln looks at him but Charlie has a damn good poker face. "Uh, sure, why?"

"No reason. General principles. Get to know the new neighbors." There's a sly mischief hidden behind that guileless expression, he's pretty sure.

"She's not Liv," Lincoln says, very softly.

"Yeah, she's not. She's- you'll see." Charlie gives him a half-salute, waves to Olivia across the room, and vanishes through the door.

Lincoln stares down at the dregs of coffee in his cup. Now that he has a minute to process...it does sting, more than a little. He's losing his two lovers, and he's going to miss their nights together terribly. But it's probably past time for their arrangement to come to an end and to get on with their lives. They've been an easy stopgap, a reliable comfort, but they all need to move on. It's time, basically, for all of them to grow up.

All that reasonableness sounds great in his head. The fact that it still hurts to think about Liv means it's not that easy to cut ties, and he wouldn't have expected it to be. He hasn't...been in love with anyone else for a long time. He can't imagine what it would feel like, not to love her, and suspects he'll never really know.

The room has gotten so quiet, it takes longer than it should for him to remember that he's not standing in a vacuum. Lincoln looks around and realizes that aside from the sleeping Bishops, he's been left alone with Olivia.

He's always suspected, but now he knows for sure: Fate hates him.

{end}


	8. Bridge Variations: Reflection

Bridge Variations: Reflection

by 'rith

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Fauxlivia. Assumes previous Alt!Lincoln/Fauxlivia/Alt!Charlie.  
>Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: ~1,100 Spoilers: Post-s3 finale.<br>Summary: Liv has a lot to consider.  
>Notes: "Bridge Variations" fic, spinning off from "Worlds Collide" in the Quantum Entanglements series. Takes place just after Liv leaves the bridge in "Evolution."<p>

She's had a hell of a couple of days, long and difficult enough that she springs for a cab home. The cabbie looks somehow familiar-maybe she's seen him in her neighborhood?-but Liv is too tired to chase through her memories to place him. If she could stand the taste of alcohol at all, getting stinking blind drunk would be a really, really good idea.

It's nearly a blur, the way the world changed so fast. Just two days ago, things got rolling when she found out that Secretary Bishop had activated the machine, using the parts she'd collected from the other world. She'd decided the hell with that, tried to cross back over to warn them, and got captured and held over for treason for her trouble.

Sometime after that she was hauled out of her cell (Christ, could it be the same one the other Olivia was held in?), ordered to put on a white lab jumpsuit, and taken to the machine. The Secretary looked at her with barely veiled panic and told her that she had some kind of connection to the thing, that she could stop it.

It took everything she had not to laugh in his face. She could have shot it if they hadn't taken her gun away. What else was she gonna do? Sass it to electronic death?

She couldn't help mocking him, even as what was happening became clear. He'd turned on the machine to destroy the other world, and they'd found a way to send its power back on itself. It'd be poetic if it didn't mean the death of everyone and everything she cared about.

Right about the time she'd figured it was all just about over Lincoln and Charlie (and Farnsworth, how strange seeing her away from her computers) came bursting in, loaded for bear and clearly intent on a rescue, and despite the circumstances it felt really, really good that they were willing to risk treason for her. Olivia remembers thinking in that moment that chances were none of them were going to survive to stand trial, but still, she really did appreciate all their effort.

And then everything flashed and they were face-to-face with their alternates, and suddenly there was a possibility that maybe everything wasn't going to end after all.

It's weird. The whole thing is weird. Other-Olivia took charge right away, Broyles backing her up (and at least *he's* the same, that effortlessly commanding presence Liv knows well), and corralled the two Dr. Bishops into working together. Liv hung around on the periphery of that conversation, completely unable to contribute, still wanting to punch the Secretary in the neck and biting back the impulse for the good of the world. At one point she caught Olivia staring at him with the same expression, and it made her feel a lot better about her alternate; they both had reason to kick his ass. They'd exchanged a glance by accident, despite neither particularly wanting to look at the other. The shared emotion of that moment, knowing they were feeling the exact same thing, was almost too much to process.

...and yeah, that's why she got so prickly when she saw Olivia holding her partners' hands. It hurt to see them talking to her like-like they were the same, like she'd been replaced again. Liv might as well have peed on their shoes to mark her territory.

She's full of uneasy, scratchy new feelings. Compared to the other Olivia (even if no one's doing the comparing but her) she feels like the bad daughter, the bad partner. Charlie telling her to knock it off with him and Lincoln was the last straw and yet he's right, she knows he's right. (That was the worst part, like a big brother's disapproval, in a totally incestuous way.) It was never fair, what they were doing. With Charlie, it'll be okay, they'll go back to what they were before and everything will be completely the same except for the after-hours part.

Lincoln...she's going to lose him and she never really had him in the first place. She could have, maybe, if she'd met him before she knew Frank. (And she'd have chewed him up and spit him back out, broken-hearted or maybe just broken, she's still pretty sure about that.) She does love him a lot, just not...enough, not in the way he wants.

And Frank is steady, he's always there, and all her rationalizations about job stress relief don't really make up for the ways she's been unfair to him, too.

She does love Frank. She does. It's time-past time-to commit to him. The ring she accepted says so.

Being in the same room as the other Olivia was...disconcerting. She already knew the highlights from her infiltration over there and wouldn't trade lives permanently for anything. The other woman had been tortured as a child, lost her mother, lost her fianc , lost her Charlie...Liv's story is golden by comparison, including the part where she'd actually killed the guy who'd been beating up on mom. When she'd heard that the bastard is still alive on Olivia's world, sending her taunts via greeting card every year, she'd wanted to jump ship and hunt him down.

She'd lost Rachel, never got to know Ella. But otherwise...her life's been solid. No crazy scientists experimenting on her head, an Olympic medal she'd earned through her own intense effort, lovers when she's wanted them, marriage to a good guy on the horizon.

And yet, and yet. Other-Olivia is the girl with the most, the super-powers that can save the world, maybe both worlds. Liv has a gun and a temper and what good is either against the vortexes that are tearing both universes apart?

Home, finally. "Have a good evening, Mz. Dunham," the cabbie says, and she starts but then recalls that he saw her Show Me when she got in the car.

"'Night, uh, Henry," she says, reaching for a last gasp of courtesy, reading his name off the posted license. That, too, sounds familiar, although she couldn't say why. The car waits for her until she gets inside the apartment complex, a kindness she'll have to remember.

Liv opens the door and finds that Frank is actually here, waiting for her. She's feeling insecure enough that she's glad someone wants her tonight, someone who can take all her sharp edges and contradictions for what they are and loves her anyway.

That's new, too, needing that reassurance. It's the kind of hateful, uncomfortable feeling she usually avoids at all costs and dives into work or sex or target practice to avoid. But so much has shifted in the last few days that deflection ain't gonna solve anything.

Maybe she's changing, too, along with the universe. Evolve or die, isn't that the way it goes? She's faced down too many threats to be undone by a little reality-shifting.

"Hey, lover," she says, and closes the door behind her, thankful for his presence, thankful for her life.

{end}


	9. Bridge Variations: Connection

Bridge Variations: Connection

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Lincoln Lee, Olivia Dunham. Assumes previous Alt!Lincoln/Fauxlivia/Alt!Charlie.  
>Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: ~2,300 Spoilers: Post-s3 finale, in just under the wire of s4.<br>Summary: A conversation.  
>Notes: "Bridge Variations" fic, spinning off from "Worlds Collide" in the Quantum Entanglements series. Immediately follows "Evolution."<p>

Everyone else is gone or asleep, and it would just be rude at this point not to talk to her. Besides, Charlie said he should and Lincoln knows by now that Charlie is always, always right. (Except when he's not, and that rarity usually involves bugs).

He fills the mug one more time from the seemingly never-emptying coffee pot-still kind of a magical phenomenon, as far as he's concerned-and walks across the room, savoring the flavor. He really should take it easy with this stuff, withdrawal was bad enough the first time, but he figures he's earned the indulgence after the last few days.

Olivia is perched on a stool at the computer Astrid had been working with, staring at the screen. She's wearing glasses, which are...inordinately sexy for such plain black frames and wow, he really has to get himself under control.

He opens with a casual "Long day,"

-and freezes. Lincoln is usually quick with his wit, glib in his speech (Charlie likes to say "slicker than owl shit," which often leads to some pretty disgusting speculative conversations about what his partner likes to use as lube), but somehow this other-Olivia has him tongue-tied.

Olivia doesn't seem to notice and nods, distracted, still looking at the screen. "I don't sleep much. Besides, everyone agrees it's best if I stay here to keep an eye on the machine."

He can't even imagine what she's capable of. "So this crowbar thing you did, is that...I mean, are you doing something now?"

"No, it was kind of...well, a telekinetic surge. Like finding a hidden pause button." Her glance over at him is tentative, probably expecting him to look at her like she's crazy.

After everything he's seen, he's hardly one to judge. "No, I get it, we've seen things like that before. People manifesting abilities. Most of them-" he starts, and bites his tongue, literally, on the next words.

No way Olivia was going to let that go, just like Liv wouldn't. "Most of them what?"

"Aren't very...stable," Lincoln says, knowing it's weak, and then it hits him that she knows this already. "Like Milo Stanfield."

Olivia's eyes narrow slightly behind the lenses and her gaze goes slightly upward and to the right, remembering. "With...the pen."

"Yeah. I just meant to say you, uh, you're not like that."

Olivia smiles a little, the look full of irony. "Well, it's nice someone thinks so." She takes off the glasses, which is a mercy on one hand and leaves him the focus of her unfiltered gaze on the other. Her intensity is kind of overwhelming; Liv can be intense too, but in a more explosive way, and he has to stop comparing these two women *right now.* "Thank you for...handling Fayette. Dealing with your Dr. Bishop is difficult enough, but that man-the last time I saw him, he was standing over me with a scalpel."

He makes another mental note to see that the Secretary and Brandon Fayette get what's coming to them. Somehow, somewhen, after their universes have stopped trying to tear themselves apart. "The Secretary usually has him holed up in a lab, so we didn't know...but unfortunately, he's the one who knows the most about the machine on our side. I'll keep him on task."

Her half-smile is wry and full of resigned understanding. "Sure."

Lincoln gestures to the computer screen. "Anything good?"

"Preliminary data," Olivia says, all business. "We've barely begun to collate the information from both sides." She pauses, then adds, "Your Agent Farnsworth has already been a tremendous help in sorting things out. It's...good having that expertise available again."

It feels to Lincoln like a sign that Olivia is okay with mentioning her time in his universe, even if none of it had been her idea. Considering the circumstances, there really isn't any way to avoid talking about it. "She adapted much faster than I would have thought. Your Farnsworth-Astrid, I mean-is really great with her."

"Astrid keeps us all together. I probably don't tell her that enough." She takes a long, slow breath, rubbing at her eyes. "At some point we should probably compare older cases, it might give us some reference points to determine similarities and differences between universes. I remember the big divergences, but..."

"The small disparities might hold useful clues. Good idea. I'll get those files assembled and we can get a couple more lookers to go over them. They won't be as intuitive as Farnsworth, she's one of a kind, but they'll be more sensitive to the feel of the changes than a computer program." The logistics are going to be a pain, pulling the mentats from their assigned posts and getting them all up to speed. At least the classified elements won't be a problem, since they're physically unable to talk about their jobs outside of work. But as head of division Lincoln will be able to cherry-pick the most talented, no matter what the other Fringe teams have to say about it. If there's any time to pull rank, it's here and now. "I'll get that started in the morning."

"Sounds good." Olivia sighs, looking around the room. "This hasn't really all sunk in yet. It's unreal, to be standing here with Charlie and you, and still be myself. As far as I'm aware, of course," she adds with an expression that indicates she's far too familiar with the alternative.

Again, considering the circumstances, she has cause. "I know your experience on our side wasn't...ideal..." Lincoln starts, already wincing at his word choice but plunging ahead anyway, "but you know how we operate and I'm confident we can make this work."

"My experience on your side," Olivia repeats quietly. There's a giant invisible elephant in the room and somehow, he's not surprised when she goes right for it. "You and Charlie and...your Olivia...afterward, I felt like I'd intruded."

He can't pretend he doesn't know what she's talking about, and if she feels the need to talk it out, there's probably no better time. It's more than strange to be discussing his sex life in this room that isn't really a place, but Olivia was a part of it for while, and Lincoln is taking her at her word that she doesn't hold him responsible. "Not your fault. It's awkward on all sides and I think we just need to agree to move past it." He feels compelled to add, "And that's just about ended anyway. With Liv being engaged and all."

"Oh. You all seemed happy. I mean, I remember being happy." She bites her bottom lip and offers a confession-at least, it sounds like a confession to Lincoln. "I know what it's like to work closely with someone, you get so involved. ...I was with someone when all the Fringe stuff started on my side. John Scott, we worked together. Lines blurred. Although," she says with a wry, almost conspiratorial look, "I have to admit I'd never gotten anywhere near the thought of a threesome."

Lincoln smiles because of all the constants of his life, that one makes...made...the most sense. "The world's falling apart on my side. The usual taboos stopped seeming so important. People really do live like it's the last days."

"More vibrant," Olivia says quietly, musing. "More passionate." It's not just the world she's talking about.

"More desperate," Lincoln amends with a shrug. "More frightened."

She gives him a sidelong glance. "You never seemed very scared to me."

"Scared shitless, most of the time," he admits, and smiles to her skeptical look. "I just don't let it get in the way, that's all." And now he's going way out of bounds, but he's been dying to know. "And you, on this side...your, uh, John?"

She blanches a little and he knows the question was a mistake. "No. He died when all of this started...it's what drew me into our version of Fringe Division, actually."

"Oh. I'm sorry." But that means Liv didn't assume that part of Olivia's life, and answers the question he hadn't dared ask her.

Olivia's sardonic reply is as on-target as if she'd read his thoughts. "Your Liv was...disappointed by my lack of a social life."

There are times Lincoln would pay good money for the ability to approximate Charlie's poker face, to keep every conflicting thought from immediately spilling onto his face. The comment hits a little too hard, right in the space between Liv's engagement and the knowledge that he won't be seeing her any more. And it's not like-she would have done whatever she needed to on Olivia's side, and he had no right to be possessive or otherwise jealous, but it's still-

Olivia's touch on his hand jolts him out of the spiral of his thoughts. "I'm sorry. That was rude."

He takes a long pull from his forgotten mug before he answers, the coffee now cool but still fortifying. "It's...better we have all this out in the open." Which is apparently the trigger for his babble reflex, because *words* start falling out of his head. "This whole crazy situation, there are too many things that could go wrong. My side's nervous about yours, yours has got to be nervous about mine. But the only people who have any chance of fixing things are here in this room and however it happened, we can't lose this opportunity. Anything I can do to facilitate, I'm on it."

He can feel her appraisal through the impromptu speech. She has the grace not to laugh, and even looks thoughtful by the end.

"You know, there is one thing." Olivia makes a brief gesture toward her neck. "I came back with this tattoo. It's a difficult process to get them removed on this side, so I was wondering..."

It's not bad enough they'd brainwashed her, but they'd altered her body to match Liv's. Lincoln wonders when he'd started thinking of the people on his side as "them." "Sure, that's easy, it's just a small piece of equipment. Doesn't even sting. I can bring one back next time."

Olivia bites her lip and ducks her head, and despite his resolution not to compare the two women, the double vision is undeniable. "I remember your tattoo."

He's...surprised that she'd mention it, considering. "Charlie calls it my Arschgeweih." She smiles as she recognizes the German slang, just like Liv would. But now he's remembering Liv's- and Olivia's- lips on his spine and the feel of her tongue and God, they need to stop coming back to this subject. Her eyes flutter and he knows she's remembering too.

Elephant, elephant, elephant. He's trying to push away the mental images, find another subject, when Olivia says, "We talked a little, your Liv and I. We'll...behave."

He can just *imagine* the conversation they must've had. The thought of the two of them collaborating is frankly a little terrifying, but it's better than the alternative of having them at odds. He's not sure either universe would survive that. But it's been at least two minutes since he's tasted his boots and he finds himself saying, "I find that hard to believe."

Olivia gives him a sharp look. "I'm not her. We're really nothing alike at all."

He's not as sure, but in retrospect he can imagine that she'd want to be very clear about the differences between them. He also figures he's already been so inappropriate that anything else he might say this evening is just gravy. "You're...quieter. Sadder, somehow. You have super-powers."

She relaxes and chuckles a little. "They only work half the time. I guess you don't know...it was Walter who did this to me."

Olivia speaks without rancor, but the phrasing is telling. "The stuff Liv was talking about, the Cortexiphan?"

"Yes. They did experiments on kids. I was one of them."

Lincoln suddenly understands that that two Bishops aren't so different, after all, except that theirs apparently grew a conscience along the way. "Like those others, the girl who burned me. I recognized the guy with her. In my world, Nick Lane was in my class at the Academy."

Olivia looks embarrassed, and sad. "Sally over-reacted. I wish...I wish a lot of things had gone differently, between our worlds."

"Like you said, it's time to fix it." He glances around, remembering they aren't actually in a *place.* "Do you think the room will stay after the machine is turned off?"

"No idea. I'm only following some of their discussions, but the Walters think there's something missing."

"Like a part or something?"

"They're not sure. They can't figure out how to shut it down, though, so for the moment we're stuck." She eyes the humming mechanism with loathing. "They can't figure who built it, what it was meant for, unless it's really just a comic-book doomsday machine."

"It's a maguffin," Lincoln says, and Olivia laughs out loud, then covers her mouth with her hand after a guilty look at the sleeping Bishops.

It's a lovely laugh. He is completely doomed.

"You should try to sleep. I'll keep watch."

Olivia looks at him, obviously torn between her duty and exhaustion, the latter winning out. "You'll stay awake?"

He does his best to look completely alert. "That won't be a problem, you have coffee. Liv wasn't kidding, it's a hell of a precious commodity. -well, you remember that. But we've all lost resistance to the caffeine, if not the taste. I'll be wired for hours."

She nods slowly, brow wrinkling in thought. "When I was on your side, I had a low-level headache for the first few weeks. I'd thought it was just leftover from the universe crossing, but...that must have been caffeine withdrawal. Huh."

Or just the result of having someone else's memories crammed into your brain, Lincoln thinks but manages not say, for once. "Good night, Olivia."

"Good night, Lincoln."

As she crosses the room to an empty cot, he realizes that's the first time he's heard Olivia-in her own universe, fully in possession of her own mind-say his name.

It's not surprising, how much Lincoln likes the sound of it. He wants to hear it again, to hear her laugh, and it's also no surprise that he's turned out to be precisely that stupid even after explicitly warning himself about the possibility of falling for her.

But it's not acceptable. He has a job to do here, more important than any before in his career and possibly more important than any in the history of his world, and he's going to damn well earn the trust that's been placed in him and get it done.

He can't let anything get in the way, especially not himself.

{end}

Arschgeweih = "ass antlers," German slang for a tramp stamp. I'm sure Lincoln's is very tasteful. *tongue, cheek*


	10. Bridge Variations: Attraction

Bridge Variations: Attraction

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Olivia Dunham Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: ~800 Spoilers: Post-s3 finale.  
>Summary: Olivia tries to sleep.<br>Notes: "Bridge Variations" fic, spinning off from "Worlds Collide" in the Quantum Entanglements series. Immediately follows "Connection."

Olivia composes herself on the tiny cot and tries to calm her mind, hoping for peaceful sleep despite the hum of the machine and all the events of the day. She can feel the machine around the edges of her consciousness, not actively trying to break her interference with its workings but detectable in that part of her mind she's come to associate with her fluctuating abilities.

It's been an unbelievable day, seeing the other Olivia and all the other alternates. Especially Charlie and Lincoln, who'd been so much a part of her borrowed life on the other side.

She'd thought about them a lot, after she escaped back to her own world.

Charlie...remembering Charlie is difficult. He'd been the agent in charge on her very first FBI op, a sting on some Irish smugglers, and so green Kermit would've been embarrassed for her. With four words he'd put her at ease: he saw her uncertainty and said "You're gonna be fine," and she was, simple as that. She'd been happy to be assigned to an office with such an experienced agent and one she already trusted.

The other version of him has a scar on his face and isn't married and-she *knows* this-really enjoyed the sex with both his partners. It makes her wonder about her Charlie, who never gave a hint about such personal things.

She never saw Charlie that way, not really. He was completely bound up in Sonia. She's seen their wedding videos, she knows how much in love with each other they were. She and Charlie were strictly professional, always, except when he was ribbing her about her apparent lack of romance (even though he knew about John, he kept her secret) or she was consoling him after a rare fight with Sonia. On the verge of death, monsters in his blood, he was still looking out for her. When she thinks of him she remembers him lying on the stretcher, his only concern for her. "Don't get hurt for me."

She's tearing up, thinking about her friend. His double is kind in the same ways, steady and calming. Talking to him was a lot like having her Charlie back, and she's grateful to him for the opportunity to feel that presence again.

Thinking about Lincoln is not calming at all.

After she came back, Olivia had nearly looked up his doppelganger before she decided it wouldn't be fair. She'd formed her opinions about him already, had expectations he could never meet. It's purely irony that her consciousness was submerged under Bell's possession when Agent Lee was introduced to Fringe Division, and afterward she'd decided it was probably for the best.

She knows too much about Lincoln Lee. She knows what he likes to eat, and how he kisses, and how his hair looks when he wakes up in the morning before the product goes in. She knows the sports teams he follows (half of which don't exist on her world) and about his brother, and how his father's death is still a quiet, soul-deep hurt.

She wonders if Agent Lee in Hartford would make the same sound as a male lover thrusts into him.

She gasps a little, the memories are so strong, the images so intense. Her body remembers the sex between the three of them, had woken her up more than once with the feel of ghostly kisses dancing across her skin. Her body remembers two men, but when she wakes, it's not Charlie she's thinking about.

She's been alone for so long, since John died. She...wants Lincoln. She wants him, wants something for herself, even if it's transitory and their worlds separate again. It's inappropriate and dangerous and reckless and she wants him.

He's right across the room, too close, not close enough.

Olivia turns on the cot, resolutely putting her back to the room, trying to ignore the ache between her thighs. It's not the time, even less the place. He's not even from her world and she'd barely managed a romance when her partner was working right beside her. And it's *Liv* he's in love with, she has to remember that. Everything she shared with him was just spillover, a deception foisted on both of them.

He doesn't want her, he wants Liv. Who is now engaged to Frank, her mind whispers, so she's lost her claim. But she knows-or thinks she knows-Lincoln well enough to believe he's not that inconstant. The depth of his feeling for her double is obvious and Olivia is not going to be a substitute again.

She-they have too much work to do here to be distracted, anyway. It won't be the first time she's sublimated her desires into her job and it probably won't be the last.

All her wishes to the contrary, she can't see any other way this could be.


	11. Bridge Variations: Apocrypha

Bridge Variations: Apocrypha

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Peter Bishop Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: ~260 Spoilers: Post-s3 finale.  
>Summary: Events unfold without him. As the title suggests, this might not be a true telling.<br>Notes: "Bridge Variations" fic, spinning off from "Worlds Collide" in the Quantum Entanglements series.

From a space unanchored in time, Peter watches the bridge.

(He is not in any place that can be named.)

This was necessary, he understands. If he was there, the arguments between his two...fathers...might never have stopped, and their combined genius is the only thing that might save their two universes.

(And all the others attached to them, Peter understands now, the infinite variations connected by one critical moment in time, when Walter Bishop shattered the barrier and all potential became actual.)

If he was there, Olivia would never forgive her counterpart and it's their pooled talents that this world-merge requires, intuition and fearlessness and psychic power and unswerving aim alike. The weapon and the hand that wields it.

(From this remote perspective-detached even from himself-he finally understands that he loves them both, because of and despite all their similarities and differences, and can forgive himself for it.)

He watches, fascinated, as the two Astrids work together, completely simpatico despite their so-different modes. Two halves of a whole, emotion and logic, empathy and cold analysis.

(Even in nonexistence he hopes she knows how much he came to care for her, the steady rock upholding all their insane exploits, no less family than Walter and Olivia.)

And it's with an ache in his heart that he sees Olivia talking with the other world's Lincoln, watches her respond to him, witnesses the attraction between them bloom. In all worlds, Lincoln Lee loves Olivia Dunham. She has no reason not to love him, in this variation.

(He hopes there will still be room for him if he finds his way home.)


	12. Both Here and There

Both Here and There by 'rith

Fandom: Fringe

Characters: Olivia Dunham, Astrid Farnsworth, Blue!Lee; Fauxlivia, Alternate Charlie, Red!Lincoln

Rating: PG-13

Wordcount: ~3,600

Spoilers: "Neither Here Nor There", altered for my own nefarious purpose. Includes considerable dialogue from that episode.

Summary: Olivia thinks about one Lincoln, and encounters another.

Notes: Quantum Entanglements 'verse.

Days go by and it becomes clear that the bridge isn't going to spontaneously vanish, nor will the machine, and it's safe enough to leave on its own. Protocols are put in place, security and decontamination both (Olivia remembers the diseases that plague the other world, and no one wants to risk a variant smallpox or cholera bug crossing over), and the respective parties return to their own worlds and their own ongoing concerns.

They do trade Fringe case files, as Olivia had suggested. The other side's lookers start weeding through the data, continuing to build a catalog of similarities and differences that might provide clues about the environmental degradation and the machine itself. The former, at least, seems to have slowed to its previous level in both worlds-worse on the other side, of course, but the Fringe teams there have the advanced expertise to keep things relatively stable.

It's...odd, to go back to the Harvard lab knowing that there's a portal to the other universe just sitting there in New York, but both sides quickly agreed to limit crossovers to essential operations only. Keeping the two Dr. Bishops separated is necessary for their continued effectiveness, and despite their truce, Olivia is just as happy not to have to deal with Liv on a constant basis.

And the distance keeps her from being in the same room as Lincoln, who-dammit, despite her resolution, despite her surety about Lincoln's feelings for Liv, she can't stop thinking about him.

Brooding about it isn't helping, so for once she decides to solicit an outside perspective. Astrid seems surprised by the invitation for a night out, but agrees readily. After making sure Agent Tim (he has a last name, but Olivia doesn't bother to recall it among the blur of all Walter's other keepers over the years) has Walter firmly tucked in for the night, they find a quiet restaurant and a couple of drinks in, Olivia broaches the subject.

She'd previously confessed to what happened between her and the other Fringe team in the other universe, after a long case and too many whiskeys. Astrid had been shocked, then intrigued. And now Astrid's met him, so Olivia invites her opinion.

"Lincoln? Oh, he's hot. Other-me thinks so, too." Astrid grins to Olivia's startled look. "She's autistic, not blind." She tilts her head in a familiar motion and looks thoughtful. "Though I'm not sure 'autistic' is the right word. It's more like Aspergers, but I think there's some exterior modification going on there too. But! We're here to talk about Lincoln."

"I don't...even know that there's anything to talk about." Olivia fiddles with her glass, pushes food around her plate with a fork. She's never had much appetite to begin with and the current uncertainties aren't helping. "It's ridiculous. He thought I was Liv, back then. It's not like...it's not like he even knows *me* at all."

"Hmm." The look on Astrid's face is a study in hesitation and conflicting impulses, but Olivia waits her out until she finally says, "I kind of think he does."

That's the end of her appetite altogether and Olivia puts the fork down with a tiny clink as it rings against the side of her plate. "*We're not the same.*"

"I know you don't want to hear this...but you're not *so* different." Astrid holds up a hand, her expression pleading for patience, and despite the urge to leave Olivia feels that Astrid has earned her say. "I know, I know. But she was able to take your place here without brainwashing, and I didn't...see the change. I'm still so sorry about that."

Olivia shakes her head, automatically denying Astrid's guilt, like she had when this came up before. "She had files, she had-

"I know you, or should have. But the point is-she was able to fool us for two months, and a lot of that was just Walter and I seeing what we were used to, with you. I'm *not* saying you're interchangeable. I'm just saying, if he's in love with one Olivia Dunham...I don't see why he couldn't fall for another one."

Astrid sits back, chin up like she's expecting a rebuke. But the truth is Olivia has never known Astrid to be wrong where her intuition is concerned, and her logic is...appealing. "Even if he might be interested..."

"Olivia. He is. I watched him circling you while we were in the bridge room, and that was not a man trying to keep away from someone he despised. That was a man trying to keep himself from licking you like the icing off a chocolate cake and dammit, I want dessert." Astrid flags down the waiter, efficiently having Olivia's dinner bundled up to go and ordering the most decadent thing off the dessert menu while Olivia fights down her blush. "You're helping me eat that, by the way."

"Astrid!" she sputters belatedly, but even she can tell the protest is weak. "I- look, even if you're right, what am I supposed to do? Come up with a pretext and- and jump him?"

Astrid nods without hesitation. "I think you should."

It was a ridiculous suggestion and now Astrid is just being absurd for the sake of argument. "But-"

"You don't allow yourself very much, Olivia. Life is short." Astrid shrugs a little and grins. "Clich but true. Our lives, especially. "

Olivia is silent for a moment, chewing that over. "I thought you were supposed to be the sensible one."

"I'm the one on the side of not letting you explode out of sheer sexual frustration." Astrid usually came off so calm, so composed, sometimes she surprised Olivia with her more...earthy side. But then, Astrid also knew the locations of all the underground clubs in Boston.

"And when the bridge closes and I never see him again?"

"I'm still on the 'better to have loved' side. Even if I'm the one picking up the pieces. It's a cross I'm willing to bear." Astrid's smile is gentle, understanding. "Just think about it."

She does, but the thoughts are futile when there's zero probability that Olivia is going to actually make a...a booty call to an alternate universe. Part of her thinks it's probably a good thing, a healthy thing, that she's having these feelings again, considering she's been so closed off since John died. The rest of her is just frustrated and distracted and God help her, it's almost a relief when a new case comes in.

They receive a call about a murdered FBI agent with translucent skin, the description shockingly reminiscent of what had happened to John, and she and Astrid hurry over to the crime scene.

The case similarity is one thing. But standing there in anguish over the loss of his partner is Lincoln Lee, this world's Lincoln Lee, and it was probably inevitable that he'd be dragged into their world sooner or later. This is the way the universe works, that Olivia would be thinking about one Lincoln and the other appears. Walter's beloved quantum entanglement theory, in action.

The first time this Lincoln had met "her," Bell had just hijacked her consciousness. Olivia had read the case file on the woman who couldn't die to catch up after the fact. Astrid had taken on the responsibility for shepherding Agent Lee on that case while Bell and Walter remained in the lab, working on ways to transfer his consciousness out of Olivia's body. Lee acquitted himself well, Astrid reported, adapting to the strangeness of Fringe Division with relative grace.

Lincoln had been the one to suggest that Dana Gray wanted to use Brian Scott's bomb to kill herself along with a group of people. He'd been right, Astrid reported soberly. But it took them a little too long to catch up to her, and the bomb on the train went off as Brian had scheduled. They'd discovered Dana's remains, along with those of all the other victims. She'd found her death; whether she was with her family again, no one could say. Astrid, in an uncharacteristic moment of bitterness, added that she'd hoped Dana's afterlife was full of visions of all the people she'd allowed to die along with her.

Astrid also noted that Agent Lee had expressed an interest in Fringe Division, but Olivia figures this is the last way he'd have wanted to be reintroduced. She carefully puts all her inappropriate thoughts about his alternate aside and approaches him, wearing her very best sympathetic face.

"Agent Lee, I'm..."

"Agent Dunham. I remember. I guess I shouldn't be surprised you'd be called in on this one." His tone is flat, affectless; the result of shock, Olivia knows, his partner having been killed and he powerless to help. She remembers what that was like, far too keenly.

"Yes. I'm very sorry," she says as gently as she can, "but I need to ask you some questions about what happened."

"Get first impressions before they're lost to memory decay. Protocol. Sure." He looks over at her, eyes blue and watery behind his glasses. "But make it fast. I've got to- I have to tell Jules, my God, his *kids*..."

She thinks, incongruously, how grateful she is that he's nothing like the other Lincoln, except in how much he obviously cares for the people in his life. But as a fellow agent he deserves her best effort, so she presses forward. "The person who attacked your partner, can you describe him?"

Lincoln- *Lee,* she thinks, to keep them separate-takes a deep breath, shaking his head. "When I first got there, he was kneeling over Robert. I couldn't tell what he was doing, but his skin was... translucent. It's like what you see on Robert's face, but more of it."

Just like John. "And when he was kneeling over Agent Danzig, did you see anything in his hands like a device or anything that could have done this?"

"No, I didn't see anything. I've requested a Field Office M.E. ...but now that you're here, he's never going to see the body, is he?" Lee's gaze is penetrating, assessing even in his grief.

"No." For his double's sake, and his own, she owes him the truth. "We'll take him to Walter's lab. If anyone can find answers..."

Lee's glance turns sharp. "Have you seen the suspect before? Do you know who he is?"

There's only so much she can say here, and since he's already been to the lab... "Not exactly, but we've seen something like this before. You...can come along, if you'd like. Your clearance still holds."

"Try and stop me," he says, and maybe he's not so different from his counterpart, after all.

Astrid approaches, with some diffidence. "Agent Lee? I'm...so sorry to see you again under these circumstances." To Olivia she adds, "I'm done here. The body- he's ready for transport."

Lee nods her way, distracted. "Agent Farnsworth. I hope...I hope you don't mind me tagging along again."

"Oh, no! Not at all," Astrid says, flustered, and Olivia wonders briefly what other connection they might have made during that first case. "And it's Astrid, please."

Lee looks off into the distance, his distress evident. "I- need to make a stop, be there when they notify Robert's family. I'll catch up with you at Harvard?"

"Of course," Astrid says before Olivia can reply. After he leaves, Astrid leans over and murmurs, "You okay with this? With him?"

"It's not an issue," she says, and thankfully, it's honestly not. Whatever fascination she has for the other Lincoln, it's not translating over to the one on this side. He's certainly attractive enough, but she's not having the same visceral reaction to his presence and that, at least, is a small mercy. "Let's see what we can find out before he comes looking for answers."

They return to the lab and start acquainting themselves with Robert Danzig and the case he and Lee were tracking. There don't seem to be any clues in the files, but that's as far as they get when Lee arrives and is accosted by Walter before either Olivia or Astrid can step in. A few moments later he's seen a dead bird fly and taken in the weirdness, as Astrid had indicated, without freaking out. It's a good sign.

There's a call about another body, and Lee invites himself to ride with them; again, at this point, there's really no reason not to have him along. Olivia should never have been allowed to investigate John's death, but Fringe Division makes its own rules and she figures she owes Lee the same courtesy for his partner's sake.

Astrid goes to deal with the body while Olivia and Lee confer about the new incidence. There's not much information, but she catches Lee looking at her oddly. It doesn't take much to figure out why.

"You're- different," he says, "from when we met before. Your voice, your manner."

"I wasn't myself." Olivia pauses, smiles wryly. "More literally than I can explain right now." She can only hope Bell hadn't said anything too appalling or damaging.

He blinks at her, clearly choosing to take her non-explanation at face value. "Fringe Division," he mutters, like that covers everything, and looks around again at the scene. "One of these things is not like the other."

He's right, and the picture that young Olivia (the older Olivia, by this point, has stopped believing in coincidences altogether) captured on her phone provides valuable data. Once they're done at the scene, Olivia takes Lee to the temporary morgue, meeting Broyles there.

He's courteous and professional and already seems to be assessing Lee for recruitment into Fringe Division. "Agent Lee. I'm very sorry for your loss. I'll let your superiors know you'll be working with us for the duration."

"Thank you, sir," Lee manages, and then is struck, horrified, by the sight of all the other translucent corpses. When Broyles admits that they're out of leads and looking at all possibilities, Lee passes on the fact of Robert's Crohn's disease and his medication and adds,

"We were partners for five years. He was like family. Something I never thought I'd find. He believed that everything happened for a reason." Olivia recognizes a eulogy when she hears it and keeps her silence as he says with considerable heat, "I'm having a hard time believing that there's a reason for this."

He might not even hear her now, but one day her words might give him some solace. "There usually is a reason. Not a good one, not one you want to hear, but we've found that nearly every case has at least some kind of answer."

He's silent for a moment, and it turns out he did hear after all. "Then I'm in until we find it."

So he is, heading back to the lab with them in time to witness Walter's latest freak out. This time he's hiding in the submersion tank from a man he saw in his mirror. It's not the most alarming hallucination Walter's ever had and Olivia and Astrid get him calmed down in relatively short order. She explains to Lee a little about Walter-more would take days-and again, he's willing to take her at her word.

And his comment about the iron pills led Walter to a working hypothesis that they're dealing with a kind of blood-metal vampire, so at least that's a place to start identifying potential victims.

But Lee balks-finally, and Olivia has to admit she's a little surprised it's taken this long, when she remembers her own first experiences with Fringe cases-when he becomes aware that the bodies won't be returned to their families. She agrees that it's not fair, it's not just, but they've already had too many Fringe cases dance on the edge of public consciousness to risk knowledge about these bodies going public. The vortexes in New York had been hard enough to explain without benefit of the truth.

Still. His pain is immediate and obvious, and Olivia resolves to find a solution, if she can.

Even in his grief, Lee picks up on the commonality of the victims' locations and they're off again, on a stakeout in hope of flushing their prey. And it's probably because he's in such pain, and the fact that Olivia is still wrestling with her feelings about his alternate, that she opens up about John. The similarity between the two cases is almost eerie, and she feels she could almost be warning her younger self about the hazards to come.

The target's spotted, and the rest is a blur of adrenaline and action; she chases the suspect into a warehouse and ends up having to shoot, while Lee confronts and takes down an unsuspected second perp. It's a clean ending, as much as Fringe cases ever have.

When Lee turns up at the lab again he almost feels familiar enough to tease, but his face is somber. "I wanted to thank you for releasing Robert's body. I know you must have pulled some...significant strings. Why would you do that for me?"

It's both heartbreaking and telling that he takes the gesture so much to heart. "I know you haven't found the answers you were looking for yet, but I hope that it brings a kind of closure, a closure that he deserves. Because of what he meant to you."

He nods, and it's a relief to them both when Walter interrupts with the discovery of an embedded device in the bodies that looks all too familiar. Another kind of shapeshifter, he postulates, and with Lee looking on with confusion Olivia and Astrid and Walter begin a furious debate about the origin of the suspect and his tech.

Eventually, with Broyles' blessing, Olivia takes Agent Lee to Liberty Island and the bridge room. He submits to the security procedures with good grace, and Olivia takes the opportunity to warn him that any answers found here only lead to more questions. But he seems willing to accept that, so they take the final step onto the bridge.

And she'd- dammit, yes, she'd been hoping that it'd be Lincoln who would greet them, both so she could see him again and so she could enjoy the spectacle of two alternates meeting without reason for innate antagonism.

But no, of course it's Liv, snarky and smirky as ever. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Lee do a double-take as he registers Olivia's mirror twin; Liv is remarkably poker faced in return, but Olivia is pretty sure that video of this meeting is going to be plastered all over the alternate division's walls.

Olivia passes over the device, explaining about the similarity to the other shapeshifters, and Liv promises to look into it. She glances at Lee again, seems about to comment, but apparently thinks better of it and saunters back to her doorway.

Olivia looks over at Lee, expecting a barrage of questions, but he's too busy being entranced by the sight of a zeppelin passing overhead on the other side. There's a long discussion ahead, considering that getting him up to speed will involve two universes' worth of history. But for now Olivia is content to let him have the wonder of the moment, a glimpse into a fantastic spectacle that she never had the opportunity to appreciate without conflict, and even finds herself envying him a little. She's going to enjoy working with him, she thinks, and Lee might bring a perspective to the team they've all been missing.

On second thought, it's probably better if Astrid handles the debrief. Olivia isn't...unbiased, and Lee deserves to have the account of their dealings with the other universe related without prejudice. And judging by the looks Astrid was sneaking at Lee throughout the case, it's possible that she finds him just as appealing as his alternate.

If Astrid wants to play yenta, it's only fair that Olivia gets to play too.

CODA: Over There

"...should've seen him!" Liv is crowing. "All buttoned up, and those *glasses*...!"

Lincoln can't help but see him, since Liv charmed someone into setting the other Lincoln's image as the background picture on all of their pads. It's... *he's* disconcerting, and Lincoln begins to understand the fundamental unease the two Olivias have with each other.

Charlie calls over from his desk, where his feet are up and his grin won't quit. "Hey boss, is that your real hair?"

Even Farnsworth gave him a sideways glance today. Lincoln can understand the fascination; he can't stop looking at the picture, at the video from the bridge room. He can almost see himself standing there in the guise of this him-who-isn't, especially if he'd done as his father wanted and pursued a law degree. But other-Lincoln is an FBI agent, essentially living the parallel to Lincoln's own career choices sans Fringe events, and that's sort of...comforting, in a way. It seems this is where he was meant to be, in any universe.

But staring at the video like everyone expects him to also gives him an eyeful of Olivia standing next to his alternate. She's perfectly composed, giving nothing away except for a hint of the friction between her and Liv. Lincoln wonders if the universe really is trying to tell him something: there is Lincoln Lee, standing next to Olivia Dunham like he doesn't belong anywhere but at her side.

Ridiculous. *Distracting.* But the image he keeps on his pad is the one with her picture, and he finds himself looking for an excuse to...consult.

As it turns out, he doesn't need the excuse.

NOTES

*crossing fingers* that "One Night in October" doesn't joss me too badly on the last line; the previews give me hope!

Re the revised version of "Stowaway", and not getting to the train on time: not in any way a comment on Astrid's competence, which is mighty, but acknowledgement that Peter's quickness in making connections is irreplaceable.

P.S.: thank you, dearest Show, for making it so *easy* to integrate your canon into my version! *beams* Not sure if I'll be keeping up on a 1:1 basis-seems unlikely-but this one fell out so smoothly it couldn't be helped.


	13. Rain Check

Rain Check

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Lincoln Lee/Charlie Francis

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: ~600

Spoilers: Post-s3 finale.  
>Summary: ...porn.<br>Notes: Quantum Entanglements series. Takes place a couple of days after "Worlds Collide" and following up on a thread in "Evolution." (Might actually be an apocryphal outtake, although could be concurrent with "Both Here and There".)  
>Thanks: To samjohnsson for fast and valuable beta.<p>

This chapter contains EXPLICIT MATERIAL and is therefore not deemed suitable for this site. Please see the contents at the Ao3 archive or my livejournal, URLs in my profile. Subsequent chapters with appropriate ratings will be posted here.


	14. Intersection

Intersection

by 'rith

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Alternate Lincoln, Olivia Dunham, Alternate Olivia

Rating: PG-13

Wordcount: ~1,700

Spoilers: "One Night in October", revised (but barely!) for my own nefarious purpose.  
>Summary: Two Olivias in one place is a lot for Lincoln to cope with.<br>Notes: Quantum Entanglements 'verse.

"Agent Dunham. We appreciate your help on this," Lincoln says, completely straightforward and professional, when all he wants to do is-something inappropriate. But all their field communications are recorded for later analysis, so he's used to checking himself. No matter what Charlie and Liv might say about his lack of discretion or inability to keep his mouth from running.

The plan was entirely Liv's idea and despite the slightly insane nature of her proposal, it's the best chance they've got of finding the serial killer who's eluded them for years. Lincoln hadn't missed the foxlike grin on Liv's face when she'd talked about bringing in the alternate Fringe Division, either. Pushing the other Olivia's buttons seems to be an endless source of entertainment for her. Or maybe her fascination is more like the inability to keep from picking at a scab, the difference between soft and rough skin a constant irritant wanting to be smoothed away. He remembers the weeks while his burns were still healing, and empathizes. But it's his responsibility to ensure that all contact between divisions runs smoothly on this side.

He figures Olivia is owed that, at least.

The op goes as designed, at first. Olivia brings John McClennan, non-serial killer version, over from her side and Lincoln ends up monitoring the situation alongside her in the car while Liv watches the professor gather a sense of his unsuspected alternate's life. He's good, a natural profiler, although Lincoln can't help but wonder if subconscious clues are guiding McClennan's observations. On some level, there have to be familiar associations. The assisting Fringe agents did their best to remove all identifying markers, but Lincoln remains on edge, waiting for the penny to drop.

The silence in the car is palpable. He can't think of anything to say that wouldn't get him called up on harassment charges, and Olivia is clearly stressed about being back in this world and listening to Liv do her job. It's not the way he would have chosen to meet her again and after her quick denial that she doesn't mind waiting when she clearly does, he decides that discretion is the better part of valor.

When the jig is up Olivia bolts out of the car, exactly like Liv would no matter how much she protests that they're not at all the same. Then it's Liv's turn to wait outside with him while Olivia explains the situation to McClennan who is, frankly, taking the whole revelation of an alternate universe much better than Lincoln could have expected. He wonders how his own alternate is doing, newly inducted into a secret division and presented with the knowledge that his world isn't as singular, or as safe, as he might have believed.

The discovery of another victim and McClennan's flight kicks the whole investigation into overdrive. Olivia finds a clue that leads to what looks like an abandoned farm, but it turns out to be the right place and they track the perp into a storm cellar. Working with Olivia is exactly like working with Liv, except in all the ways it's not: Olivia is quieter (even without the tension in regard to Liv), more watchful. She finds her clues in the silences in between, where Liv drags them out into the open through sheer force of will.

In the end Ms. Miller is saved, the serial killer is dead (and Lincoln really would have preferred that he not blow his own head off in front of Olivia, but she seems to be taking the incident in stride), case closed. Olivia goes back to her world, along with the professor who Lincoln hopes hasn't been transformed into a monster to mirror his other self. She shook Lincoln's hand again when she left, a gesture perfectly in keeping with professional interagency interdimensional cooperation, but he can't ignore the way Olivia's palm lingered briefly in his or the slight squeeze she gave his fingers as they parted.

The touch reminds him that the last few weeks have been...odd. Part of it, the most shallow part, is his sudden lack of company at night; Liv is appropriately spending all her free time with her fianc Frank, and Charlie took Lincoln's advice to "give it a try" with Mona so much to heart that a whirlwind courtship and a "yo, meet me at the courthouse, best man!" later, Charlie and Mrs. Bug Lady Francis are chilling on a beach, newly married, snug as two...

He can't even say it.

He'd resolved to let Charlie and Liv go with all his blessings and he has, truly wishing them well. But... but. It's been a long time since Lincoln had to think about his extracurricular activities and somehow, the thought of dropping in at the local bar for some casual company doesn't seem as appealing a prospect as it used to. (Regardless of the certain outcome. Not just for his looks-now that he's seen his alternate, Lincoln can judge objectively-but thanks to the allure of his Fringe badge.)

So maybe it's more than a shallow fixation. Seeing his partners both working on building their lives makes him think that for all his smug excuses (Charlie, of course, had that nailed), it's possible that Lincoln has forgotten how to construct a relationship outside the defining limits of Fringe Division.

Which is just...sad. And the justification that it's not the time, considering current circumstances, doesn't play either. But he's also left with the fact that attempting a relationship with a woman from an alternate universe is a poor idea by any yardstick. Sooner or later, that door *is* going to close.

His thoughts are interrupted when Liv appears in his office. "Hey. Meant to give you something."

She reaches out a hand and he takes it, feeling something small and metallic in her palm, passing to his. Glancing down, he sees it's his apartment key.

Liv shrugs a little. "Figured that since I wasn't going to be...stopping by anymore..."

"Keep it." Lincoln presses the key back into her hand. "Still partners, remember? Never know when you might want a- a safe house."

"Yeah, okay." The fact that she doesn't argue is a little unnerving. "So- that went well, right? Considering."

"Lucky Olivia spotted those numbers," he says without thinking, and winces. So much for checking himself.

Liv just smirks. "Yeah, she's a dream. A real pleasure to work with. You two got along okay, though."

If she's spoiling for a fight, that's fine, but he'd rather have it without any pretext. "Something you want to say?"

She glares at him, her expression bitter mixed with...he can't tell. Anger? Hurt? "Turns out any Olivia will do, huh."

He matches her gaze, remembering all they've shared. "I think you'd know better than anyone how much that isn't true."

Her face goes a little red, acknowledging the verbal hit. "It's still tacky. Like- like we broke up and now you're dating my twin sister."

And okay, that's probably fair. "We're not 'dating,' there's nothing going on."

"Sure," Liv says, in that tone that means "not buying it." He usually only hears it directed toward suspects and it's disconcerting to be on the receiving end. "Whatever you say. But Lincoln..." she stares at him, her whole demeanor shifting, honest concern written on her face. "Be careful, okay. I don't- I don't want you to get hurt."

"I love you, too," he says, because he does and always will, and it's safe to say now.

Liv leans against his desk and smiles weakly. "Yeah. Frank's out on a call, you want to grab a pizza?"

They do, like friends, and they're even laughing together by the end of the pie. When they part for the night Liv kisses his cheek, apology and affection in one gesture. Lincoln's dreams that night are full of Olivias, red-haired and blonde, but it turns out even his subconscious can tell the difference; when Lincoln wakes, he's thinking of solemn hazel eyes and a quiet smile.

If that's not a whack from a cosmic cluebat, nothing is.

CODA: Over Here

"It's great that you got the guy, but I want to hear about what happened with *him.*" It turns out that given the whiff of a potential romance, Astrid is as tenacious as a hunting hound on a scent.

"We were tracking a serial killer! There wasn't time for...anything," Olivia protests.

"But you were friendly, right? Didn't shut him down cold?"

Olivia remembers the touch of Lincoln's hand, at the end. "No."

"Well, that's something." Astrid nods, apparently satisfied.

Turnabout is fair play. "So, what about him?" Olivia gestures to the other side of the lab, where Lee is still pouring over files, just like when she'd left. "Any progress?"

Astrid shakes her head, revealing nothing. "He's just lost his partner and is still mourning. He needs time."

She can't resist. "But you're friendly, right? Not shutting him down cold?"

Astrid laughs, and Lee glances over at the two of them, clearly curious but not wanting to intrude. "No."

"Well," Olivia mimics, "that's something."

They smile at each other and it's nice, Olivia thinks, to have someone to talk about this with. Even if she doesn't know what "this" is.

There honestly hadn't been time during the case, and she hadn't had the inclination to broach the subject-even if she knew how to start-with Liv right there, looking on. And she'd wanted to get Professor McClennan back to this side as soon as possible. It was a valid excuse, but no less of one for that.

Lincoln had been entirely professional, reliable and perceptive in the field. But she'd seen him watching her out of the corner of his eye in the car, and she was keenly aware of his concern for her after the other McClennan killed himself.

Astrid's right. There's definitely something between her and Lincoln Lee, and Olivia is running out of reasons not to explore the possibility. The most obvious one, the different-universes factor, still looms large, but that's- it's almost starting to seem irrelevant, after a case like McClennan's. If the two worlds remain linked, Olivia can see the potential for far more collaboration, and many good opportunities to see him again. If they don't...

She'll never forgive herself for not taking a chance while she can.

{end}

Next: Finally.


	15. Culmination

Culmination

Fandom: Fringe

Characters: Olivia Dunham/Alternate Lincoln Lee

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: ~1,700

Summary: Finally.

Notes: Quantum Entanglements series, post- "One Night in October". Canon takes a hike.

Contains a nod to Jaune Chat's "Going to Miss Over There", which might have been the first bit of Olivia/alt-Lincoln I read and set my tastes forever.

Thanks to miss_porcupine for telling me to do it better, and samjohnsson and monanotlisa for beta. (Very important fic! Needed multiple eyes!)

This chapter contains EXPLICIT MATERIAL and is therefore not deemed suitable for this site. Please see the contents at the Ao3 archive or my livejournal, URLs in my profile. Subsequent chapters with appropriate ratings will be posted here.

(Apologies, readers. The way this site hides mature content annoys me a great deal.)


	16. Time on Our Hands

Time on Our Hands (the place in our hearts where we hide)

Fandom: Fringe Characters: Olivia Dunham/Alternate Lincoln Lee Rating: Explicit Wordcount: ~7,200 Summary: More of the same, and talking too.  
>Notes: Quantum Entanglements series, follows "Culmination". Canon continues to be on vacation.<br>Thanks to samjohnsson for beta and validation. :)

This chapter contains EXPLICIT MATERIAL and is therefore not deemed suitable for this site. Please see the full contents at the Ao3 archive or my livejournal, URLs in my profile. Subsequent chapters with appropriate ratings will be posted here.

(Apologies, readers. The way this site hides mature content annoys me a great deal.)

[First part below.]

It's been a long time since Olivia's woken up in a lover's arms. Her body feels pleasantly achy, inner muscles stretched in an agreeable way.

The "in his arms" part is more a figure of speech than a reflection of reality; Lincoln sprawls in his sleep, arms and legs pointing off in every direction, his pillow tossed to the floor. She runs a finger along his jawline, touches his mouth, and his lips purse in a kiss against her hand. "Hi," Lincoln murmurs without opening his eyes.

It makes Olivia wonder, briefly, how many times Lincoln has woken up to a touch on his skin, from a new someone he's just slept with. The thought doesn't disturb her at all. This world is full of too many hazards for moral absolutes, and she's a visitor here without room to judge. More important this time they both chose each other, with full awareness, and the past is finally past. "Morning."

Lincoln scoots over, eyes still closed, and pulls her close. "You know what? It feels like a good day to play hooky." His hand runs down her side, just short of tickling. "You feel good."

"Mmm. Lincoln, you know what I'd really like?" Olivia pitches her voice low, going for sexy, and has a wry fleeting thought that Liv would be much better at this. "You know what would really *satisfy* me this morning?" She shifts closer, feeling him hard against her, and nearly relents.

But no, she's set her course and will see it through. "Pancakes."

Lincoln's eyes fly open. "Olivia Dunham," he says, his tone a blend of surprise, amusement, and affection. She waits for the follow-up but he kisses her instead, grinding briefly against her thigh before he vaults out of bed. "Your wish, etc. Breakfast. Let's go!"

She laughs and follows, collecting yesterday's (no, the day before's) clothes. They jostle for bathroom space, constantly stepping on each other's toes, until Olivia steps back and watches Lincoln do his hair with proper reverence.

"That's...quite a procedure," she says, aiming for ingenuousness, when he's done.

"You're mocking me. I can tell," Lincoln says mournfully. "Liv does too. You two just don't appreciate the struggles of those of us not born with perfect hair."

He mentions her double casually and possibly for the first time, Olivia doesn't feel her hackles go up at the reference to their similarity. "Well, the result is worth it," she offers.

"Annnd now you're humoring me." Lincoln heaves a huge sigh. "Let's go find that breakfast."

They walk over to the same diner of the previous morning, and Olivia does order the pancakes. They're really damn good, she agrees.

"I wasn't kidding," Lincoln says around his omelet, "about playing hooky. Fringe events here have slowed back down to manageable levels, and the techs are going to be brainstorming their next big idea for a few days. Charlie and Liv can handle things. Besides," he grins, "there's gotta be a benefit to being the boss, right?"

Olivia nods, thinking of her caseload, which tends to veer between tedious paperwork and moments of extreme terror. "I'd love to. Especially if you spend a day or two with me in my world. It'd only be fair," she says wryly, smiling to take the irony out of it. "I could bring you by the lab. You could meet our Lincoln."

"Huh," he says, an odd look on his face.

"What?"

"I wonder if he's..." Lincoln swallows a gulp of juice, shakes his head. "Never mind."

Olivia thinks about it for a minute and then her face flames up as she translates his expression. "Lincoln Lee, you were not thinking about...!"

God, she can't even say it. The half-embarrassed, half-intrigued look on his face is answer enough. He coughs into a napkin, trying to cover too late. "Uh, no. Not at all. Nope."

"Narcissist," she accuses, but she's laughing because he's so ridiculous and also, why wouldn't he be?

"It was just a random thought!" he protests. "No court would convict."

Olivia tries to look stern, but it's impossible in the face of his absurdity. "I have to work with him, so don't scare him."

Lincoln looks thoughtful. "I doubt he's as delicate as you think. But I'll behave."

They finish up and head back to Lincoln's apartment so he can throw some clothes in a bag and then make a quick stop at Fringe Division headquarters, where Lincoln officially signs out. Charlie's back at his desk and Lincoln waves him down. "Sneaking out before anything comes down. If you need me-"

"Eh, you're not that important," Charlie says, and nods over to her. "Hey, Olivia."

"Hey, Charlie," she replies, smiling, while Lincoln sputters. "I heard you got married. Congratulations."

"Thanks," he says, grinning like the newlywed he is. "And hey, thank your Astrid for those files. The medtechs are working on a new serum to kill the bugs, they say it's starting to look good."

"What's Mrs. Bug Lady gonna think about that?" Lincoln asks, tone edged with sarcasm, but when Olivia looks into his face she sees nothing but fondness and hope for his friend.

Charlie just smirks at him. "Turns out Mona's got other interests, too. Crazy, right?"

"No accounting for taste," Lincoln shoots back, but he's smiling. "Hold down the fort, all right?"

"You got it." It's almost the same exchange they had on the bridge, but there's no 'sir' this time, Olivia notes. Charlie adds in her direction, "Don't let him wander off. He gets distracted easy and then you have to chase him down."

"I promise," Olivia says solemnly, and Charlie looks like he's about to say something else before he changes his mind. He waves them off and Lincoln takes one last look around at the relative quiet of the monitor boards before they go.

Thanks to Lincoln's ability to command fast transport not available to the general public, the journey to Liberty Island passes quickly. On the way, they play a game of "What's Different." They've both made the trip enough times to know the terrain by heart, and Lincoln skips over the amber dots on the landscape to keep the mood light. Lincoln's badge and rank get them through the heightened security with a minimum of questions, and they pass through the bridge room and by the humming machine without incident.

They walk out of the complex in her world and Lincoln stops short, staring across the water with a stricken look.

Olivia's gotten so used to the sight-or more accurately, the absence of the sight-that she's forgotten how hard first-time visitors take the loss of the iconic towers on the skyline.

"I read this in the briefings," Lincoln murmurs, sounding overwhelmed. "In- in my world they hit the White House."

"I know." The losses had been much fewer on the other side. "It's still hard to believe, sometimes."

"I'm looking and I don't believe it. Olivia..." Lincoln looks at her, beseeching. "I know it's probably not what you had planned, but can we go over there?"

She hasn't yet gone to the memorial site, thinking vaguely that she was waiting to take Ella, to explain about buildings her niece had never known. But Lincoln's distress is immediate and requires an answer.

They take the ferry over to Battery Park and walk up the few blocks to the site. Lincoln keeps looking around and up, like he's still trying to see the towers as they stand in his world, until Olivia nudges him.

He throws her a rueful look. "I'm gawking like a tourist."

Olivia smiles slightly, her expression tempered by their surroundings, and takes his hand as they walk onto the site. Her badge trumps a visitor's pass and they pass under the canopy of trees to take in the twin waterfalls and the bronze plaques, etched with names.

She touches Lincoln's shoulder and motions that she's going to meander a bit. Each person who comes here needs the chance to absorb this site on their own terms, in their own way. Olivia's emotions are still a tangle, mingled anger and acceptance and resignation to the fact that no memorial, no matter how well designed, will ever reflect the truth.

Olivia watches Lincoln as he circles one of the waterfalls, mindful of Charlie's words and her responsibility to keep an eye on all visitors from the other universe. But it's not long before Lincoln finds her side again, blinking suspiciously fast but otherwise composed. "It's still unreal. I can't imagine what that day-"

She cuts him off, because she doesn't want to relive it. "I'm glad-honestly, I am-this didn't happen on your side." She stares at the towers every time she's there, drinking in the sight photographs and memory can't match.

But no, frankly this isn't what she'd planned, and she's acutely aware of how limited their time together is. Especially standing here, in the shadow of no towers. "Ready to go?"

Lincoln nods and this time he's the one who reaches for her hand, as they head back down to collect her car.

The first thing they do before getting on the road is stop for coffee, giant cups from a drive-through for both of them. Olivia drinks quickly to stave off an incipient caffeine-deprivation headache; Lincoln savors his, something like bliss crossing his face with every sip. "Your side is ruining me. I'm going to go through withdrawal all over again."

"I can send you back with a stash," she offers.

Lincoln's got his thinky face on. "You know, we probably ought to start thinking about protocols for transferring materials between your world and mine. As tempting as the coffee sounds...it'd be awkward if I was asked questions about where I got it."

"That's...a really good idea," Olivia says, wincing because she's afraid her comment sounds condescending when she doesn't mean it that way at all. It *is* a good idea, and not something she'd considered; Astrid usually handles all the logistics.

But Lincoln doesn't seem to notice, so maybe her tone wasn't as off as she'd thought. "I've got stacks of virtual memos, recommendations from everyone who thinks they deserve an opinion. Some of them stuck."

The reverse journey up to Boston sparks more of the comparison game, and when that wears thin, the conversation veers into more personal topics.

"First real boyfriend?"

The first is nearly the end of the list, Olivia thinks ruefully, but answers anyway. "Lucas, when I was in the military. That...didn't end so well. I dated a little in college, nothing serious, until I met John at the Bureau."

"You were engaged to him," Lincoln says gently, and that's a detail he must've gotten out of Liv because she doesn't remember mentioning it and it's certainly not in any file. "I'm very sorry."

"Yeah. He- " she sighs. "I don't know. Everything looks different in retrospect. But I was happy, while we were together. That's the part worth holding on to."

"It really is. I'm glad you- I'm glad you have that." It sounds like there's a story there, but Lincoln goes on in a reflective, unselfconscious voice, "First boyfriend was Danny. We didn't know what the hell we were doing, but it was fun trying to figure it out. First girlfriend was..." he laughs. "Laurie. She was tutoring me in math, and then other things. Clich , right?" Lincoln glances over at her, sly smile on his lips. "You?"

She laughs. "No."

Lincoln nods, grinning. "Didn't think so. Liv would have told me about college lesbian shenanigans. I think." He pauses. "Not that your experiences would have been identical, but-"

"But some things probably remain true across universes," Olivia agrees, and suddenly it occurs to her that maybe she should have a conversation with Astrid about Lee. Not a warning, just...potential information.

Entertaining as the discussion is, she's had enough of driving by the end of the trip. Teleportation between cities in her own world, Olivia thinks, would be far more useful than the half-cooked abilities she's developed.

The day's getting on so they don't stop by the lab, after all. Olivia does swing the car by the Federal Building to tell Broyles she's on vacation- no ifs, ands, or buts-while Lincoln waits outside his office, smiling politely to the other agents' curious looks. Broyles raises an eyebrow at her, but agrees without argument when Olivia notes she hasn't had a real holiday in three years. He doesn't question Lincoln's presence either, even though her visitor is obviously not on a case, and Olivia wonders just how much he knows.

"Dunham," he says, as she's about to leave his office. "Be careful."

She glances back to find a hint of understanding in his stern eyes, a suggestion of support on his mouth. "I...will, sir. Thank you."

The pancakes were a long time ago and Olivia can't imagine there's anything really edible left in her fridge, so they stop for dinner at her favorite Indian restaurant, the one on her speed dial. Despite the frequency of her orders she's actually only been here in person a handful of times, and is pleased to find it neat, clean, and a perfectly acceptable place to bring a date.

If Lincoln's a "date." Somehow, none of the definitions really fit. But Olivia's determined not to worry about quantifying this, whatever this is. They eat mostly in silence, smiling over the table at each other, feet touching underneath.

By the end of the meal all Olivia wants is to be home, but on the way she realizes they need to stop at a grocery for necessities. She and Lincoln make fools of themselves in the pharmacy department, a required stop since all of Olivia's contingencies are ancient.

"So what do you think? Super huge? Equipment of unusual size?"

Lincoln shakes his head, demurring with modesty. "I know my limitations. Charlie, on the other hand..."

They both crack up to the amusement of an older lady passing by. Olivia is inordinately delighted to see that she's smiling at overhearing them, seeming entertained by their inappropriateness rather than glaring with clich d outrage. It feels like a good omen, like the universe approves.

She's throwing random foodstuff in the basket when Lincoln says, "I'm getting pretty tired of restaurants and takeout. You want to pick up something for dinner tomorrow? I can cook."

She turns to look at him, astonished. "I don't remember that."

Lincoln shrugs, like the fact hardly bears mentioning. "There usually isn't time or opportunity, at home. But my mom taught me, and I like doing it."

Olivia nearly says "marry me" before she bites down on her lip. Instead she settles for, "That'd be perfect."

"So what would you like?"

"Oh," she says, flustered. "Visiting chef's choice. Surprise me."

Lincoln eyes her, then thinks a moment and nods. "Follow." She does, amused by his imperious tone. She watches as he collects vegetables, herbs, spices-she'd warned him that her cupboards were bare-and a large aluminum pan. Finally, he leads her to the meat department. She'd been determined to agree with anything he brought back but is secretly relieved when he returns to the cart holding a bulky package.

"Roast chicken," he says. "Mom always says it's the true test of a cook, along with the ability to make the perfect omelet." Her nose crinkles reflexively, and Lincoln sighs. "Not eggs, either? I've noticed the way you eat. Or don't eat."

"I ate yesterday!" she protests. "All that Chinese! And two real meals today."

"Because I *fed* you," Lincoln retorts, smiling. "Seriously, Olivia."

She just shakes her head at him because there's no arguing, really. They approach the check out and Lincoln stops mid-step. "You grabbed the ticket at the restaurant too fast for me to remember I have no money here. I am *penniless.*"

"I've got it covered. Besides, I wanted to return the favor from yesterday." The cart is full of more groceries than she might ordinarily buy in two months but her monthly bills barely dent her paycheck, and she's not much of a shopper.

The checkout girl gives Lincoln the onceover. So does the bag boy two rows down. Olivia watches them watch him, entertained. "I need to get you off the streets before you start a riot."

Lincoln's voice is warm and full of promise when he leans over to whisper in her ear. "All my interdimensional cooties are yours."

Olivia starts to laugh, helplessly, to the open astonishment of the checkout girl who's probably seen her dozens of times and never, ever seen more cheer on Olivia's face than a polite smile. She's still giggling all the way to the car, and home.

Her apartment is just different enough from Liv's version, without Frank's stuff, to avoid double vision for either of them. Lincoln helps her unpack the groceries and finally, glasses of wine in hand, Olivia pulls him into her bedroom.

They get naked and curl up in bed but this time, there's no rush or need to hurry. All the frantic urgency of the day before has given way to something more deliberate, something she wants to savor.

Olivia pillows her head on Lincoln's chest, breathing in his warmth. "What are we doing?" she muses, not really meaning to say it aloud.

His hand strokes idly down her hair. "Being happy while we can."

Astonishing, it's just as simple as that. "...yes."

After a few blissful moments the imp of the perverse makes her prop herself up on an elbow to voice the question she hasn't had the nerve or desire to articulate before now.

"So are we really identical?" Olivia asks softly, knowing the answer no longer matters. He's here, with her, and there's no confusion.

Lincoln takes a breath, looking uncertain, and Olivia suddenly remembers that he's a few years younger than she is. "Sure you want to know? I'll tell you if you really want."

"Tell me," she says, and settles in to listen, watching his face.

"Well...Liv is...a little more toned," he starts, checking her eyes to make sure she's not angry. Olivia smiles, nodding for him to go on. "She spends a lot of time at the gym with Frank. He's really built."

Olivia laughs. "He wasn't around very long when I was in her shoes. I always wondered..."

"Liv never has any complaint," Lincoln says wryly. "But when you were with us, Charlie and I thought- well, we thought Liv had been on bed rest and an IV drip for weeks, so that explained the difference."

"Makes sense."

Lincoln grins, his face lighting up. "You know what else makes sense?"

She can smell a diversion coming-he's nowhere as subtle as he thinks he is-but she's feeling too content not to play along. "Hmm?"

[Read the rest on A03, again with my apologies for the hoop-jumping.]


	17. Distant Early Warning

Distant Early Warning

Fandom: Fringe

Characters: Olivia Dunham/Alternate Lincoln Lee, Astrid Farnsworth

Rating: PG-13

Wordcount: ~1,300

Summary: Two cases and a complication.

Spoilers: "Alone in the World" and "Subject 9".

Notes: Quantum Entanglements series. Back to canon. Mostly. (Thank you for not jossing me, Show!)

"You look...*rested,*" Astrid says, clearly exercising monumental restraint. Olivia thinks she deserves some return for that, among so many other things.

"I don't know why you'd think so," she drawls, as blandly as she can. "I haven't slept much over the past few days."

Astrid giggles approvingly and they share a smile. "I'm sorry I didn't bring him by, but-"

"Olivia. That time was for you. I'm glad you made the most of it." Astrid reaches over to squeeze her hand, then goes on to briskly fill Olivia in on what she'd missed the last few days. It's been quiet, aside from Walter's usual eruptions and the addition of Lee to the lab's rhythms.

When she greets him, it's obvious he's curious about her absence but is choosing not to pry. It's just as well, because she wouldn't know how to explain. Idly, Olivia wonders if telling Lee that she was sleeping with his alternate would constitute workplace harassment.

Lee obviously loved Robert as a partner, the way she loved Charlie. But when Olivia reexamines their conversations in her memories, the knowledge of Lincoln's past make her realize that there was something else there for Lee, something unrequited. It makes her ache for him in retrospect, and embarrassed that she hadn't caught the sentiment before. When she mentions her revelation quietly to Astrid she gets a "no kidding, Olivia" look, even if Astrid is too polite to say it aloud.

Olivia had also noticed that Lincoln was always careful to distinguish between her and Liv, though her alternate deserves a full name too. It's something she'll have to think about with Lee, eventually.

In the meantime, he's been handling the absorption of Fringe case files incredibly well. Olivia's glad, again, for the differences between him and his alternate; after being so intimate with Lincoln, any hint of that with Lee would be too much to process. She's already feeling...fond of him, in a way she hasn't felt in a long time. But it's a purely platonic emotion and more like what she had with Charlie-her now taking the role of mentor-than any relationship she's had since his death.

There's no time for reflection in their line of work. A day after Olivia's impromptu vacation the team launches right into one of their weirder cases, which turns out to be a sentient fungus that nearly kills Lee before Walter breaks the connection between the organism and the boy it's linked to. Lee even makes her laugh at the end of the case, turning her own words back on her, and she knows they're going to work out just fine.

But Walter was getting more and more agitated throughout the case and when she goes back to the lab, she barely finds him in time to stop him from lobotomizing himself. The sound of the hammer will haunt her, as will the sight of the orbitoclast in Walter's eye. It's horrible, and she can't fathom what drove him to that extreme...until he reveals the hallucinations that match up with the face from Olivia's recent dreams.

That makes it something new entirely, a case for them to solve rather than (another) sign of Walter's psychosis. Doctor Sumner's letter weighs heavily on her because it's true that Walter's gotten worse, and he really does need more care than she and Astrid can provide. But Olivia also knows there's no Fringe Division without Walter, and no more answers either.

The question of Walter's sanity, at least, is settled by the appearance of a blue energy that chases her until they find a way to neutralize it with the aid of one of the other Cortexiphan subjects. Walter comports himself admirably outside the lab, given everything, and takes Cameron's accusations with full acceptance of his culpability. She hasn't entirely forgiven Walter for the experiments either, but seeing Cameron makes her thankful for her relative luck. After weighing all the factors, Olivia signs the papers to keep Walter out of the institution with a clear conscience.

But that concern is almost extraneous, considering the appearance of the man who had emerged from Reiden Lake, claiming to know her.

Something about him nags at the back of her mind. Olivia doesn't recognize him, but he's definitely the man who was in her dreams and Walter's hallucinations. She keeps hearing a faint warning bell sounding that his appearance signals...something. Change. A fundamental shift in the status quo that she can't see yet.

He bewilders her, especially with the look he gave her, hopeful and...intimate? Like she should know him, and on more than a casual level at that.

It's enough to drive her back through the portal and into the other world, ostensibly to deliver a file on the new arrival in case he's actually from there. It's really an excuse to grab Lincoln and check into the nearest New York motel, no time for the trip to Boston. The haste and discretion is a lot like when she and John used to meet, careful to keep their romance a secret, and the association is a little disconcerting.

None of that matters while she and Lincoln are naked with each other again. Olivia loses herself for a while in the smell and taste of him, all other concerns disregarded.

She hasn't forgotten her other purpose here and afterward, she looks toward the tattoo device he's brought. Actual body ink storefronts are all but gone, Lincoln had explained, since the mechanism is so straightforward anyone can rent and use it, and the results are just as simple to remove if mistakes are made.

This isn't a mistake. Lincoln programs the device and Olivia closes her eyes, feeling only a slight spray on her lower back as he applies the design.

"There," he says, voice sounding strained. She looks back to see him blinking too fast and it's- it really isn't fair, not at all.

Olivia gets up, not feeling as much as a pinch from her new ornamentation. "Lincoln, please, tell me if this is too much."

He looks at her for a long moment and she's grateful that he doesn't dismiss her concern out of hand. "It- it kind of is. But I'm glad for that. If that makes any sense." He laughs suddenly, a sharp noise lacking any humor. "I should have some kind of memento too, right? More than a blanket. Because I don't-"

She closes the distance as he says, sounding wrecked, "I don't want to forget you either."

There's nothing more to say. It's not the time or space for a declaration of love, if such a thing would even be applicable; Olivia's old enough and experienced enough (barely) not to mistake sex and love, and she has the memory of Lucas if she ever gets confused on that point again. She feels...a lot toward Lincoln, and yes, maybe it could even be love if they had time to really know each other, but what would be the point of confessing to it now?

"...that man whose file I brought," she says against his shoulder, her own voice sounding hoarse. "There's something important going on in relation to him. Something's different with- I don't know. Things are about to change."

"I know better than to doubt your intuition," Lincoln mutters, face buried in her hair. Even if he's attributing Liv's instincts to her, Lincoln seems to have caught the scent of her unease. "You said the other day, you were glad to have good memories of John. That those were worth holding on to. I'm glad for this too, no matter what, I-"

Olivia kisses him hard because she can't hear more, not now, and she can't stand to see his tears. She has to leave soon, go back to her own world and start unraveling the mystery the man from the lake presents.

In a little while. Their universes are falling apart, and Olivia wants the memory of strong arms around her to stave off the coldness in the world, the cold fear around her heart.

{end}

Orbitoclast = lobotomy tool. New vocabulary word!

Newton removed Liv's tattoo with a penlike device in "The Box," I'm assuming it's as easy to apply one as well.

Series to resume post-"Novation," come what may.


	18. Across Worlds

**Across Worlds**

Fandom: Fringe

Characters: Olivia Dunham/Alternate Lincoln Lee, Lincoln Lee

Rating: PG-13

Wordcount: ~2,700

Summary: The strange case of Peter Bishop; catching up with the Lees.

Spoilers: "Novation" and "And Those We've Left Behind" for Olivia, through "Wallflower" for Blue!Lincoln.

Notes: Quantum Entanglements series. Quick reminder (because I had to make a chart to keep this all straight myself): QE was started in the gap between season 3 and 4, when Peter was gone but we didn't know the extent of the timeline changes. So Olivia still went over with the Cortexikids and was replaced by Liv, and Colonel Broyles and David Robert Jones died as per (original) canon.

Thanks to samjohnsson for beta.

* * *

><p><strong>Over Here<strong>

So here he is, the latest Fringe event encompassed in one person: Peter Bishop.

He really is Walter's son, at least according to the DNA test results. It's not absolute verification but it's the best they have, backed up with Peter's seemingly uncanny knowledge of all their operations and cases. He claims to be a member of the team, somehow erased by a timeline that changed around him. The fact that his information is slightly off in parts actually helps make his case; a too-perfect account would have had them suspecting him as one of the new shapeshifters, with a mechanically accurate memory.

But he's tremendously helpful in tracking those new shifters, despite Broyles' suspicions and Peter's clearly maverick mode of operation. Lee becomes his unexpected advocate, perhaps because Peter doesn't seem to have as much unnervingly specific knowledge about him, or at least none that he's chosen to reveal. Olivia's perfectly willing to cede the duty of dealing with the younger Mr. Bishop to her new partner, given the fact that Peter-

-he gives her the _creeps_, frankly. It's the looks he keeps giving her, but even more than that, it's the hope that flares in his eyes every time he sees her, only to watch it fade as she fails to respond to him in whatever manner he's expecting. It's becoming increasingly clear what he thinks that manner should be, and Olivia has absolutely no answer to that other than to keep her distance.

Lee doesn't have any such problem with Peter, but the reappearance of the shapeshifter who killed Lee's partner clearly troubles him in a way that Olivia remembers from all her searching to discover who'd been responsible for John's death. She tries to reach out to him, and isn't offended when Lee declines her offer of company; she hadn't wanted to dilute her heartache by sharing it, either.

Walter steadfastly refuses to meet with Peter again, after that first disastrous meeting, but Peter proves willing to help with the investigations regardless. Nothing else to do, he tells Olivia bleakly when she comes to check him out of the holding cell, but his demeanor improves once they're on the trail of the latest time anomalies. The breach-detection equipment on loan from the other universe confirms that it's not a soft-spot event, at least. Despite Walter's passive-aggressive assessment to the contrary, Peter is convinced that he's the cause of the anomalies, or at least that his appearance in this universe has something to do with them. He's even willing to put his life on the line once they identify the Greens' house as the epicenter of the events. Given the successful resolution of that case, Broyles unbends enough to offer Peter better accommodations. Peter himself seems less agitated in the wake of the case, apparently having come to the realization that he wasn't in his own universe, after all.

Olivia understands, now. Peter Bishop loves an Olivia Dunham from a different universe, and that doesn't have anything to do with her. The same way that Liv loves Frank Stanton and Olivia hasn't had the slightest impulse to find Frank's alternate in this world. It's sad and she can feel sorry for Peter, now that she realizes his feelings aren't about her at all. "I hope that you get back to her," she tells him, and she honestly means it, for both his sake and that of her alternate self.

As for why Peter appeared in her dreams-some kind of Cortexiphan resonance, maybe, her ill-defined abilities making her sensitive to world-shifting events.

Olivia wants nothing more than to tell Lincoln about it, share her revelation and her relief, but they've all agreed not to use the portal between worlds more than is absolutely necessary. Even so, she remembers the fear she'd felt at Peter's appearance and almost laughs, for its dissolution. With a light heart, she decides to open up to her new partner. Lee really does deserve to know, and if being honest with him about her relationship with his alternate encourages him trust her, so much the better.

She chooses a moment in the lab, when Astrid and Walter are otherwise occupied. "Listen, you should know. Your alternate and I. We're...involved." It's the best word she has.

Lee goes very still, obviously processing. "I see." It's a delaying tactic as he thinks it over. Olivia lets him, reading through files while she waits. Eventually he shifts to get her attention and says, "I apologize in advance if this is inappropriate...but is that wise?"

Somehow, she's not surprised he's gotten to the crux of it that fast. Her respect for him increases again, for daring to ask the question she's barely considered herself. "I- no. Probably not. But..."

Lee's gaze softens behind the glasses. "I understand. I think. Sometimes you can't help-"

"Yeah." There's a limit to how much she's willing to talk about it, though. "Anyway. You needed to know, because you're going to meet him sooner or later."

"That...should be interesting." Lee's voice is full of questions he's not asking and Olivia's very, very grateful for his restraint. "Thank you for telling me, though."

She smiles at him, feeling that sense of connection again even more strongly. It's good to have a partner again, someone she can rely on to watch her back. It's strange and wonderful, how the same man in two different universes has given her what she's been missing: a steadfast and trustworthy partner in one world, a lover to remind her that there's more to life than work in the other.

Olivia watches Lee sneak glances at Astrid during the day, manages to bite back any number of comments, and can't help but smile behind their backs as they leave the lab together, negotiating over where to eat.

Her own apartment will feel emptier than usual, she knows, with the memory of Lincoln lingering there still. She'll think of him and know that somewhere, on the other side of the portal between worlds, he'll be thinking of her.

They're both too aware of the distance between them, too mindful of the fact that only a thin bubble of a room connects their two universes. There's no solution Olivia can see, and Lincoln knows it too. They way they clung to each other the last time they met spoke louder than any declaration. But neither of them was willing to say good-bye, and it's possible-likely, even-that with the open shapeshifter case and the ongoing concerns about both worlds' stability, they'll have the chance to meet again soon.

For right now, that's enough.

* * *

><p><strong>Over There<strong>

It's Charlie, of course, who calls him out.

Lincoln's fairly well settled into his new position, but Colonel Broyles' desk still feels too large for him in any number of ways. He wants to bolt for the van every time a call comes in, and resents like hell seeing Liv and Charlie go out on calls without him. He hasn't ceded that privilege entirely yet, but the longer he's in this position the more demands are made on his time, from administrative matters to requests for consultations from other Fringe teams. It's a mystery to him how Broyles managed it all, and Lincoln has begun to inspect his hairline daily for impending signs of stress-induced follicle loss.

All work-induced anxiety aside, Lincoln knows he's in for it when Charlie comes into the office and closes the door behind him.

He's amazed Charlie's held off this long, after he saw Lincoln go off on impromptu vacation with Olivia, never mind the unscheduled leave Lincoln took when Olivia crossed back over to give him the "Peter Bishop" file. Lincoln had carefully kept that file off the Secretary's radar; there was enough tension between the worlds without adding a doppelganger of Bishop's lost son into the mix, at least until they have more information about who he really is.

Charlie goes on for awhile about the current cases and status updates-nothing Lincoln couldn't have called up on his own-before he stops and squints at Lincoln with a familiar concerned look. "But never mind all that, are you okay?" He hesitates, flails his hands a little. "I don't want to sound like a dork, but..."

"You are a dork," Lincoln says, all fondness. "But yes."

Charlie smiles and Lincoln remembers the way Charlie had kissed him, after their last time in the broom closet. There'd been a lot packed into that kiss: gratitude, affection, reluctant farewell.

"Well, good then." Charlie nods at him and Lincoln is shocked, actually shocked, that he got away with it.

-because he's not okay, not at all. He wants to be, wants to think about Olivia like he does most of his past lovers, fondly but without sentimentality.

But she's _Olivia Dunham_ and he was in love with her before they ever met, so what chance did he ever have?

There's a lot of transference going on, he's smart enough to know that. But not smart enough to avoid it, apparently. All the things he loves about his world's Olivia are hers too.

She doesn't need anyone to take care of her. She clearly needs someone so much. He wants to-cook for her, make her laugh, take some of the burdens she carries off her shoulders.

It's harder to make Olivia laugh. That's a challenge he likes. Her sense of humor is quieter, more pointed, a little more macabre than Liv's. Ironic, given the circumstances of their lives, but then again Olivia's life had been a horror show-experimented on as a kid, for fuck's sake, and the people on the other side thought Secretary Bishop was the monster of the two alternates. As far as Lincoln was concerned, they both were.

Everything would be so much easier if the rest of them really were monsters, like the Secretary first told them. But a woman on the other side of the dimensional bridge is wearing a mirror of his tattoo on her back, and Lincoln spends every moment that isn't purely devoted to the business of his own world's safety thinking about her.

He knows how hopeless it is between them, there's no fooling himself on that score. But he wouldn't have given up knowing her for anything.

"...Charlie," he says, just as his friend's hand is on the door. "Maybe not so okay."

Charlie looks back and him and nods, no surprise at all in his dark eyes. "Want me to come over after work? Mona's got book club or some other thing, we can talk."

Lincoln nods, grateful, and both of them know that while talking is possible, it's nothing more than an excuse for Lincoln to cry on Charlie's shoulder. Not the first time, won't be the last, and Charlie never holds it against him. The same way Lincoln would never exploit the memories of the few times Charlie's had to lean on him.

A few days later Liv calls him up, her voice trembling over the line, and it's Lincoln's turn to be the strong shoulder as Liv tells him that Frank's moving all his stuff out of her place, and that she's given back his ring.

Charlie comes over again too, and it's almost like old times except without the sex and a lot more heartache all around. Charlie mutters that Mona isn't thrilled that he keeps running out whenever they call, but the look in his eye tells them not to push the issue, so they don't.

No matter what happens, they've always got each other to depend on. Even given all the uncertainties of his world, Lincoln knows that will never change.

* * *

><p><strong>Over Here<strong>

The waitress at the all-night diner already knows Lincoln's name and the way he likes his coffee, and that's not necessarily a good sign; Angie only works the late shift and he's been in often enough lately that she's started to brew a fresh pot right before he arrives.

It's not flirting. She says he reminds her of her son.

Most of the time he's alone with his thoughts, but Olivia had stopped in once by coincidence when her own insomnia kept her up. They'd had an impromptu conversation about how he was adjusting (less well than he admitted to), and Olivia assured him that this would all just become his life, eventually. That could begin happening any second now.

Mostly it's the change in location and the nature of their cases, rather than any dissatisfaction with his new co-workers. Lincoln still misses Robert-of course he'll always miss Robert-but Olivia is kind, and Astrid is lovely, and Dr. Bishop is...complicated. So is his son, the open Fringe case named Peter Bishop.

Olivia has been cautious around Peter, uneasy, and it was easy to understand why. As Lincoln's come to understand it, Peter is from yet another alternate universe-not the one on the other side of the bridge-where he's in love with yet another Olivia.

It's no wonder Lincoln's having a hard time sleeping, considering the realities he now has to assimilate into his worldview.

When he went to deliver the supplies Peter had requested, Peter had been surprised and grateful for the company. Peter was easy to talk to, and Lincoln found himself admitting to both his difficulty with all these new truths and to the fact that he's never met anyone like Olivia before, impressed by the way she so easily accepts every bizarre new occurrence.

The way that Peter chuckles indicates that he'd misconstrued Lincoln's meaning. It's true, he hasn't met anyone like Olivia Dunham, and he's honestly fascinated by her. But not in the way that Peter thinks, especially in the wake of Olivia's revelation about dating his alternate. That's Olivia's business to share, not his. She wouldn't appreciate Lincoln revealing that detail to this stranger, no matter how useful he's made himself to the division.

And even if Lincoln was inclined to date one of his coworkers-and he's not ready yet, won't be for awhile-Astrid's made it perfectly clear that she's both interested and willing to be patient.

In another lifetime, he might even have pressed Peter for a real answer about those glasses. It's entirely possible, Lincoln realizes with a start, that in another lifetime-another universe-he _did_. He can't decide whether the thought is comforting or unsettling. Roads not taken, and all that.

In this reality, despite the insomnia, he's starting to make a new life in Boston. He still talks to Julie and the kids and has plans to spend holidays with them. He'd bought Christmas presents for Jules and Amy and Jonathan months ago, and they're stacked up waiting in his closet. Robert's present is there too, but Lincoln thinks it'll be a long time before he'll be able to touch it. It'll be a nice donation to Goodwill at some point, he supposes. But not yet.

Still, he can sense a slow dawning distance in their conversations. He'll join them for the holidays, yes, and see the kids on their birthdays, but after that...Lincoln knows they'll be down to exchanging emails and cards on the holidays. "Uncle Lincoln" will become a distant memory and a twice-a-year mention, thank-you notes dutifully penned in childish hands because Jules is a stickler for politeness. One year he'll decide to stop torturing himself, and that'll be the end of it.

That slow inevitability keeps him up at night, another item on the list. Most of the time, Lincoln tries to keep his thoughts focused forward, toward the future and the possibilities of the new life he can build here. But he can't move forward, not really, until he can find some closure on Robert's case.

He's still not sure he trusts the people on the other side of the bridge. They sent the shapeshifters before, even if they were currently disavowing all knowledge of this "new" kind. He trusts Olivia's intuition, and if she vouches for them, then he's willing to believe her-while maintaining his own distance and reservations. One of them needs to keep an objective perspective, after all.

But as new as their partnership is, he knows he can depend on Olivia. Even given all the new uncertainties of his world, Lincoln knows that will never change.

{end}

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><p>For much (much) more, see my page at AO3. Link in my profile.<p> 


	19. While You're in the World

**While You're in the World**

Fandom: Fringe

Characters:

Rating: M

Wordcount: ~10,500

Summary: A trip over to the other side brings the shapeshifter situation to a head.

Spoilers: "Back to Where You've Never Been" (some dialogue from that episode) and "Enemy of My Enemy" and a touch of "Everything in its Right Place" - but vastly altered

Notes: Quantum Entanglements series.

Thanks to samjohnsson for beta.

* * *

><p>Peter Bishop's patience-which has been remarkable, considering his circumstances-finally runs out.<p>

"I've got to get home," he tells Walter, teeth gritted. "You're the only person who can help me do that. I've been separated from my family. And you of all people should understand how desperate I am to get back."

Peter chose a private moment to confront Walter, but Astrid had gone back to the lab to pick up something she'd forgotten, and overheard. It was terrible, Astrid said, relaying the conversation to Olivia later-hearing the desperation in Peter's voice, seeing the conflict and despair on Walter's face as he refused to help.

So Olivia is prepared when Peter finds her the next day, cornering her after work hours. "I need a favor. I need you to ask Broyles to get me permission to use the bridge so I can cross over into the alternate universe."

"Because...?" Olivia thinks she already knows, but she's still trying to understand his motivations. Every edge she can gain is a necessary one, with this man who looks at her like he knows her too well.

"Because I think the machine is my best chance of getting home. And Walter created it, but clearly he's not gonna help me recalibrate it, so I'm hoping Walternate will."

Olivia nods slowly, thinking it over. Relationships between the two worlds have reached an even keel, her..._affair_ with Lincoln notwithstanding. Olivia had been the one to champion the arguments for peace, and considering she'd arguably been the one most wronged by the other side's incursions, the others had followed her lead. The appearance of the new shapeshifters is confusing the issue, but they seem to be equally a mystery to everyone over there.

"What makes you think that he'll help you?" she asks, because Walternate is still an untrustworthy quantity as far as she's concerned, and she hasn't forgotten how he casually ordered her memories replaced with those of her alternate. Or her _dissection_ when they were done with her.

Peter's reply is full of resigned truth. "I really don't have any other choice."

Maybe it's the thought of another Olivia Dunham somewhere who loves Peter, who's missing him, that sways her decision. "Okay. Let me talk to Broyles and Captain Lee, I'm sure we can arrange something."

"You trust that guy?" Peter's eyes are piercing, maybe having divined too much. But she has nothing to answer to him for.

"Yes, I do." Olivia holds his gaze. "He says he doesn't know anything about these new shapeshifters, and I believe him. What Secretary Bishop knows, though, that's another question."

"Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone, then." He's silent for a moment. "Thank you, Olivia."

She's beginning to see it now: how and why in another world, an Olivia Dunham loves this man. Her dreams have shown her enough to have a sense of him (too much, maybe). If he trusts her as a reflection of his Olivia, she can trust him as someone his Olivia loves.

There aren't enough words to describe all these entanglements between universes. Olivia gives Peter her best confident smile, and goes to talk to Broyles.

* * *

><p>Broyles agrees, surprisingly, following Olivia's logic about a trip to the other universe under the pretext of seeking help for Peter being an excellent opportunity to ferret out more information on the shapeshifters. "I'm glad to see you have a clear perspective on this," he tells her, and if she doesn't blush it's only because his words are offered with no judgment whatsoever. She'd told him once that bringing emotion to her work made her a better agent. Broyles accepts that, and trusts her opinions despite her <em>thing<em> with Captain Lee. That makes Broyles not only the best boss she'd ever had but the only one, in her opinion, capable of running Fringe Division.

Not that Lincoln isn't doing his best, over on his side. It takes a little longer to arrange a meeting than Olivia had hoped; his new duties as Colonel Broyles' successor prevent him from rushing to the bridge room every time she calls.

But finally they receive word that Captain Lee is available for a meeting. Olivia arrives early and waits, impatiently, until the door on the other side opens and Lincoln comes through.

He looks tired, she thinks, and goes to meet him in the middle of the room. "I'm here about Peter Bishop," she says clearly for the sake of all the recording devices, and immediately wishes she'd opened with a friendlier greeting.

"Olivia," Lincoln murmurs, and the tone of his voice leaves no room for doubt that they'd be in each other's arms already if it wasn't for all the cameras here. He clears his throat and goes on. "You were...concerned about him, the last time we met."

"Yeah. It seems like he really is Walter's son, but from another reality. Another universe." Lincoln blinks and Olivia smiles slightly. "I'd say that sounds crazy, but-" she gestures to the room they're standing in. "He knows things about all of us, details that aren't quite like we remember them. Best guess, he's from a universe another step over. So Peter wants to talk to the Secretary. He thinks your Walter Bishop can help get him home, since ours is...a little too freaked out to help."

Lincoln nods slowly. "I'll take the request back. You...want to come through?"

"Wish I could," Olivia says, her voice a whisper, and then in more normal tones, "It's probably best if you break the news to him yourself. If he agrees, we can escort Peter over. Me and-" she smiles, unable to help herself. "Agent Lee."

Lincoln chuckles. "Oh, please bring him along." He hesitates for a moment and lowers his voice. "Maybe you can help us get some answers, too. Charlie and Liv were called to a scene yesterday, guy climbed up the side of a bus and leapt thirty feet, then got creamed by another bus. Could've just been another weird mutation, but as soon as the team got there, I got orders direct from Secretary Bishop to pull them off the case." Lincoln looks at her, his face full of conflict. "That's a breach of all kinds of protocol. D.O.D. has oversight, but Fringe Division has jurisdiction over all Fringe cases. There's no reason the Secretary would pull us off a case, especially one we've just caught, unless..."

"Unless he has something to hide?" Olivia suggests softly when Lincoln seems unwilling to follow the thought to its conclusion.

He nods, looking uncomfortable and apprehensive. "Liv and Charlie agree it's hinky. We don't have any proof-Astrid wasn't able to find concrete evidence that he had anything to do with Colonel Broyles' death, either. But Liv thinks it's possible the guy who got himself pancaked was a shapeshifter, judging by what she saw before they were booted off the case."

"So we both have questions that he needs to answer," Olivia says, and Lincoln nods. "Maybe Peter will throw him off enough to pry something out of him."

"Worth a shot." Lincoln takes a long breath, steeling himself. "All right. I'll talk to the Secretary about Peter, see about getting clearance for you and him and Agent Lee to come through." Despite his worry, he smiles a little. "That should be entertaining, if nothing else."

"Remember, you promised to behave around him," Olivia murmurs, and is rewarded with the cheeky grin she's missed most. "See you soon?"

"Soon as I can," Lincoln promises, and turns to head back to his world.

"Lincoln, wait." She'd been hoping for a private moment but waiting didn't make any sense, not when the connection between their worlds was too fragile to depend on. The Secretary might forbid a meeting or deny further access to the bridge on his side, and Olivia would never forgive herself if she missed this opportunity. "You said you wanted something, a memento. I found this artist, she makes- well, here." She reaches into her satchel and pulls out the frame with its glass enclosure, handing it to him. Suspended inside is a delicate weaving of a butterfly that looks like it's made out of fine amber thread, but it's really-

"Olivia, my God. Is this your _hair?_" Lincoln sounds awed, nearly overwhelmed.

"Yeah. I hope that's not too, uh, creepy?"

"No. It's beautiful," he says, but he's not looking at the weaving at all.

Olivia's hand trembles as she reaches out to touch his mouth, to hell with the cameras. "I can't stay."

"I know." His lips shape a kiss against her fingers. "You'd...better go before I can't let you."

Lincoln's hands, she sees, are clenched tightly around the butterfly's frame. "Be careful," she tells him, and they go their separate ways.

* * *

><p>Her fears prove immaterial. Secretary Bishop approves the request for a meeting, perhaps intrigued by the idea of this new doppelganger of his lost son.<p>

Olivia, Peter, and Lee walk though the other side's door, escorted by Liv and Charlie. The D.O.D. headquarters is just on the other side of the complex, but Charlie explains that the Secretary had meetings in Washington earlier this morning, so they're heading to the Fringe Division headquarters in Manhatan for a brief summit until he returns. "Get all of us on the same page," Charlie says cryptically, and doesn't elaborate.

As they step outside Lee takes a quick glance up at the bronze-colored Lady, but it's his first look across the water-and the Twin Towers still standing on the skyline-that brings him to a standstill.

"I know," Olivia says. "Gets me every time, too."

"That's- seeing that is worth this whole trip," Lee says, and everyone politely pretends not to see the tears in his eyes.

On the ferry from the island, Liv describes the body she'd seen at the bus station: features that didn't match, like they'd been pieced together from several different bodies. "But we haven't heard a damn thing about him since."

"The whole thing stinks like old fish," Charlie grumbles. "I'm not happy with the idea of these things running around either, not since I found out what they did to your Charlie."

In a roundabout way, that reminds Olivia of something she'd been meaning to ask him. "How'd it go with the new serum, by the way?"

Charlie shrugs, so like her old partner it still gives Olivia pause. "Not a full cure, but it put the little fuckers in hibernation, so at least they don't itch anymore." Liv elbows him, and he gives Olivia an apologetic glance. "I mean, 'Much better, and thanks again.'"

"Really, you're going to start being polite now? To _me?_" Olivia murmurs, and Charlie stares at her for a moment before letting out a sharp laugh. Because in either world she values Charlie's honesty, and no matter how short their time here is, Olivia needs that from him.

Peter doesn't seem fazed at all by the other side, not even when the blimps with their advertisements for moon flights go by. "Seen it before," he says shortly, his impatience bleeding through.

"In your other timeline?" Liv asks, sounding curious and amused, and Peter's glance toward her is sharp and laden with something Olivia can't begin to decipher.

But his voice is pensive. "Yeah. Here, Olivia and Walter and those other Cortexiphan subjects crossed over to try to get some intel on this universe. It was the same in my timeline...except Olivia also came over to find me." He stops, shakes his head at their inquisitive faces. "Long story. But I'll do whatever I need to so I can get back to her."

Olivia doesn't doubt that one bit. It's both an emotional plea and a warning: Peter Bishop would break worlds to get back to his Olivia. She and Liv exchange a glance, for this one moment exactly on the same page.

Their own two universes are already at the breaking point. Neither of them will allow this man-no matter how poignant his plight-to disrupt the fragile peace, or interfere with their tenuous balance.

* * *

><p>It's a quiet ride to Fringe Division. Peter seems lost in his thoughts, while Lee looks around at everything and tries to take in all the differences between worlds. Olivia chats softly with Charlie, taking in the latest news. The vortexes and environmental anomalies have noticeably eased on this side, and it seems to be because of the bridge. Some of the previously uninhabitable zones have stabilized, and there's talk of a worldwide reclamation project, assuming the trend continues. It's amazing news, and Olivia makes a mental note to fill Walter in when they get back.<p>

Liv leaves them to the discussion, glancing at them occasionally. Her fingers tap out a rhythm on the wheel of the car when she obviously wants to interject, but doesn't. She seems...quieter than Olivia remembers, almost pensive in moments when she thinks no one's looking.

They're given visitor's passes and escorted through the Fringe Division building, up to what Olivia remembers had been Colonel Broyles' office. Captain Lee sees them coming through the glass walls and stands up behind his desk as they enter, unable to keep a grin off his face at seeing his double. "Agent Lee, I presume."

"Oh, my gawd," Charlie groans before any of them have a chance to react. "Just kiss already, would'ya, so we can get some work done in our lifetimes?"

"Shut it, bug boy," Lincoln says, and saunters out from behind his desk to shake Lee's hand with appropriate decorum. "Good to finally meet you. I hope we have the chance to compare life notes, at some point."

"I'd like that." Lee's gaze is piercing. "Just tell me one thing: you really don't know anything about these new shapeshifters?"

"I honestly don't." Lincoln holds his double's eyes, intent and serious. "Olivia told me that they killed your partner. If we find any answers, you'll have them, I swear."

Lee nods once. "Okay." He turns to Olivia. "So what's our first move?"

Olivia exhales the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Well, Peter has a meeting scheduled with the Secretary...?"

Lincoln nods. "He'd like to see Peter alone, considering the circumstances." He belatedly holds out his hand for Peter to shake and Peter does, looking agitated.

"That's fine."

"No," Olivia interjects, "it's not. We have a lot of questions for him, too."

"Maybe," Lee puts in delicately, "it'd be best if I went with Peter. I don't share Olivia's...history with the Secretary, he doesn't know me at all. He might even," he adds, nodding his chin toward Lincoln, "make assumptions that could prove useful."

Charlie laughs, saying, "He's sneakier than you, boss," which makes both Lincolns turn to him with a wry look. It's such a startling case of double vision that Olivia can't help but smile too. And Lee does have a point.

Lincoln shrugs, acceding after he sees Olivia nod. He motions to an agent outside. "Agent Murphy will take you back over. Olivia, we can run you through what we know about the shapeshifters over here-not much, but maybe something will strike a chord."

Liv points a thumb over her shoulder. "I'll have Astrid send all the intel to my screen."

"Great. Guys..." Lincoln looks over at Peter and Lee, forehead creased with concern. "Tread lightly."

"Sure." Peter tosses them a smile that Olivia doesn't trust in the least, preferring to put her faith in Lee's quiet nod. She watches them go, thoughtful, and then turns back to Charlie and Liv.

"Lincoln said you were pulled off the case, but did you find out anything else about the suspected shapeshifter? What he was doing when he was killed?"

Liv and Charlie glance at each other before Charlie answers. "Funny you should ask. There was a murder at the bus station. We went through the footage and the perp definitely came running out of there, the timeframe fits." He lets out a long, slow breath. "The victim worked for the State Department."

"So suddenly," Lincoln says, sounding grim, "these shapeshifters are pursuing some kind of agenda in this world too, in addition to infiltrating yours. -or maybe not so suddenly," he adds. "We don't have any way of knowing."

Things click into place. "And because you don't know who might have been compromised, it's easier to trust someone with the same problem, even from a different universe."

Charlie touches his finger to his nose and points at her, a gesture so familiar it makes Olivia swallow hard. "You got it. You've had a lot more contact with these things-that we know of, anyway-so really, we're looking to you for some kind of hint that'll help us find 'em."

"We usually only discovered their identities after the fact," Olivia says slowly, "but I'll tell you what I can. Including the details not in the files we provided," she adds wryly.

"Yeah, well, we didn't tell you everything either," Liv says in the same tone, and the four of them look at each other with resignation.

"Like we don't have enough to deal with without this conspiracy crap," Charlie says in his _I'm too old for this shit_ voice. "Can't help thinking, though, how far up this goes."

All three of them look spooked, so it's up to Olivia to get them back on track. "One thing at a time."

"Right." Lincoln claps his hands. "Okay, start going over that data, I'll catch up when I can." But even as he's saying that, one of the young (too young) Fringe agents sticks her head into the office and salutes.

"Captain Lee, sir, there's a call for you from Captain Scott down in Carolina, he wants a consult on an anomaly they've run into."

Lincoln tosses Olivia a despairing look but answers the aide evenly enough. "Yeah, put him through."

Olivia takes a fleeting moment to wonder if that would be _John_ Scott, but she just as quickly decides that she doesn't want to know. "Go save your world. We'll work on the rest."

* * *

><p>She'd barely begun to look through the scant files when everything goes to hell.<p>

"Captain Lee!"

Agent Farnsworth's voice cuts through the ambient sound of the situation room, and everyone immediately stops mid-sentence to hear her. The interruption, Olivia gathers, is rare.

"The transport with Peter Bishop and the other Agent Lee. It's diverting from its scheduled route."

Lincoln pokes his head out of his office and glances down to her station. "Murphy taking a shortcut?"

"No, sir." Farnsworth's eyes dart back and forth across her screens. "They're heading away from the Liberty Island ferry. Agent Murphy and Agent Cole are not answering their comm signals."

Olivia's heart rate spikes. "Where are they going?"

"Unknown." Farnsworth's hands fly over the panels. "The transport has stopped in an alleyway."

Lincoln was already calling for agents to converge on the location, but Olivia knew it'd be too late. Whatever was happening was happening without her, and this was the last damn time she'd allow herself to be separated from the others while they were on this side.

Farnsworth's eyes go wide. "Gunfire reported in the area!" And then she pauses, listening hard. "Captain Lee, unauthorized presence on comms asking for you."

"On speaker," Lincoln snaps, glancing toward Olivia with an anxious look. Somewhere in a corner of her mind that wasn't consumed with apprehension, Olivia thought he'd need to learn how to govern his expressions if he was going to run the division. But then again, the openness of his expressions is part of the reason why she-

"This is Lincoln Lee," a voice rang out-too loud, like he had the comm close to his mouth, but Olivia is too relieved to hear his voice to criticize. Farnsworth touches a control and the volume diminishes. "Agent Murphy shot Cole, tried to kill me and Peter. What the hell's going on here?"

"Murphy did _what?_" Lincoln says, looking stunned, and at the same time Olivia interjects before she can stop herself. "You're all right? And Peter?"

"We're okay. Murphy's down, Cole's critical."

"Support team is five blocks out," Farnsworth reports. "Medical services have been alerted."

Peter's voice came over the speaker. "That's great, but you'll forgive me if I don't wait for another assassin to show up." There's a crunch and then the connection goes dead.

"What's he doing?" Lincoln looks to her for an answer, but Olivia doesn't have one. Though from what little she knows about Peter Bishop...

"He'll try to find safe ground. Wherever that might be on this side. He wants to get to the Secretary, though, no matter what." Olivia scans through her memories. "During his debrief he mentioned that the last time he was here, in his timeline, he stayed at his mother's house. Elizabeth Bishop."

"Charlie," Lincoln snaps, and the other man nods.

"On it." Charlie strides out, commandeering two other agents as he goes.

Liv cocks her head. "Who on our side would want them dead?"

"That's the ten thousand dollar question." Lincoln looks grim. "Let's go find out. Olivia, you're being deputized, I hope you don't mind. Martin," Lincoln calls to the nearest aide, "I need a full field kit for Agent Dunham. Comm, service weapon, the works."

"Uh, yessir." The aide tosses Olivia a doubtful look, but bolts off, presumably to collect the gear.

They scramble downstairs to the parking lot, where Lincoln commandeers one of the division's tricked-out SUVs. The aide-Martin-meets them and hands over the equipment. "Comm's set to standard frequency, just press-"

"I remember," Olivia says shortly, and then relents, because he doesn't know anything about her stint in Liv's boots. "Thank you."

Liv swings into the driver's seat, and after they're all buckled in (the SUV won't start otherwise, they take safety seriously on this side), Lincoln turns to look at her in the back seat.

He still seems bewildered. "This doesn't make any damn sense, Olivia. I've known Murphy since the Academy. He's always been a straight arrow."

She has a suspicion, but there's no point in voicing it yet. And there are other possibilities. "Blackmail? A payoff? But I'm more interested in who convinced him to do this."

"You and me both," he says, and turns forward to stare out the window as the city races by.

Now that she can listen in on their communications, Olivia hears Astrid's update in her ear too. "Agent Lee and Peter Bishop have been found, a few blocks from the transport. Bishop appears to have suffered a head injury, but he's refusing to let any of the agents approach to tend to him. Agent Lee is demanding your presence, Captain Lee."

"'Demanding,' huh. Well, let's not keep them waiting." The coordinates appear in the GPS and Liv stomps on the gas without waiting for Lincoln's word.

They pull up to the scene, tires screeching as Liv stands on the brakes. Olivia's out of the car before it even shudders to a halt. She sees them, Peter on the ground with a hand to the back of his head, Lee standing protectively over him, interposing himself between Peter and the other agents on scene. She pushes her way to them, aided by Lincoln's shouted "let her through!" from behind. Lee sees her first, his shoulders slumping in relief. "Olivia, thank God."

At her nod he relaxes his stance, allowing the other agents to move in. "What happened to Peter?"

Lee looks sideways at her. "He wanted to run, tried to convince me to hand over my gun. I had to...dissuade him."

Peter has a sour expression on his face as the medic tends to his scalp wound. "Never expected he'd clock me from behind."

Olivia can't be anything but pleased by Lee's quick thinking. "And how did you expect to get anywhere, with no Show-Me?" She doesn't wait for Peter to answer. "Lincoln, did Murphy say anything?"

"Nothing useful. But someone called Murphy just before he turned the car," Lee reports.

"We can trace that," Liv says, and touches her comm. "Astrid, you get that?" She nods. "She's on it."

"None of this makes any damn sense." Lincoln's staring at Lee and Peter, like they're somehow responsible for his friend's actions. "Murphy didn't have any reason to try to kill either of you."

Peter snorts. "Sure he did. If he wasn't himself. Give me a scalpel and I can prove it in about two minutes."

"Prove what?" Liv asks, looking disgusted.

"If he's a shapeshifter." Olivia continues to Peter's nod and consequent wince. "They have a technological implant at the base of their spines. They...kill the person they've replaced," Olivia says gently toward Lincoln, because she remembers how it was, with Charlie. At least Lincoln hadn't had to shoot his friend in the head.

Astrid's voice comes through the comm. "The call did not originate from this command center. Beginning a trace now. It may take some time, as the signal seems to have been sent through several relays."

Lincoln looks...Lincoln looks furious, and Olivia can't blame him. "So you're saying that my friend is probably dead, and these things have infiltrated my division, and there's no way to tell them from real people aside from cutting them open?"

"We don't have a way," Lee puts in, the voice of reason. "But from everything I've seen of this side, I bet your scanning tech is better than ours. Peter used one of their devices to track them before, he can do it again."

"Maybe," Peter says, waving off the medic's offered arm and standing up under his own power. His tone isn't encouraging. "They shut me out of the network pretty fast the last time I tried that trick, no reason to think they haven't evolved further since then."

"We don't know that they have, either," Olivia argues. "It's worth a try."

Peter looks at her, not bothering to hide his exasperation. "To a point. None of this gets me any closer to home."

Lincoln's been listening to the back-and-forth. "Peter, if you can determine that Murphy was a shapeshifter," he winces, perhaps realizing what that will entail, "we can take that to the Secretary. That'll be physical proof he can't deny. And you'll have your chance to ask him about helping you."

"Sure, assuming that he isn't behind all of this," Peter snaps back, and then sighs. "And if he is, he's not going to be inclined to help me anyway. Dammit. Yeah, okay."

It's a silent, tense ride back to the first scene. Liv keeps glancing at Lincoln, biting her lip, and Olivia would be irritated if she hadn't been doing the exact same thing. She touches Lincoln's shoulder when they get out of the car, squeezing briefly, and he catches her hand and squeezes back before he moves onto the scene.

In short order the body is laid out behind an impromptu tent and Peter is handed a surgical kit. In even briefer a time he comes back out, stripping off the gloves and holding a round metallic device, sealed in an evidence pouch. "Here you go." He tosses it toward Lincoln, who catches the thing with revulsion on his face. "Sorry about your friend."

He sounds like he means it, which is an improvement on his previous tone.

"All right, then," Lincoln breathes out in a low tone. "Let's go see Secretary Bishop."

* * *

><p>Charlie meets their group as they wait on the pier for the D.O.D. ferry, recalled from his futile drive to the Bishop home. Lincoln talks to him quietly, bringing him up to speed on Murphy, and Olivia sees the compassion and worry in Charlie's eyes as he looks at his friend.<p>

It's funny, she's never really thought about how her Charlie would have responded to Lee, if he'd lived long enough to meet the younger agent. Charlie would have taken Lee under his wing as a protégé, just like he did for her, she decides. But Lincoln and Charlie over here have an entirely different kind of relationship. Not even considering Olivia's too-intimate memories of them together.

Liv's standing with them and for a moment Olivia experiences the strangest kind of déjà vu: She'd _been_ there, discussing a case with the guys, the three of them against the world. Only it hadn't really been her, but her body with Liv's memories.

That's how she and Lincoln first met, true, but by now Olivia knows there's more between them than stolen moments and borrowed time.

The ferry takes them over and the six of them stalk through the D.O.D. halls until they reach the Secretary's office. A tall, dark-haired valkyrie with a major's insignia stands watch at the door. "Linc- Captain Lee," she says, holding up a hand, "the Secretary wasn't expecting you."

"Angela." Lincoln's voice is low and dangerous. "We're not fucking around here. We need to see him now."

Olivia remembers her, vaguely, through Liv's memories. Major Warner hesitates, then nods. "I've been hearing...things. A lot of tension in the air. Hope you can cut through it." She steps out of the way.

Despite the major's words, Secretary Bishop doesn't seem surprised to find a crowd invading his office. "Captain Lee, Agents Dunham and Francis," he says, nodding toward them. Despite her persistent anger toward him Olivia can't help but be impressed by his smooth manner, so different from Walter's fragile agitation. "And our visitors from the other side. Agent Dunham and Agent Lee, welcome to our side."

Olivia wants to remind him that this is hardly the first time she's been here, but a glance from Lee restrains her tongue. The Secretary isn't done, looking at Peter with an expression that Olivia can't decipher. "And Peter Bishop." He goes on, his voice low, ignoring the rest of them. "I've dreamt about this moment for so many years. And now you're actually here, standing in front of me."

Peter pauses, seeming shaken. "I know you don't want to hear this right now, Secretary Bishop, but I'm not your son."

Bishop nods briskly. "I know that. How could you be?" He sighs, and it looks like genuine regret. "I've known about you for some time. I've been monitoring the intelligence feeds from the other universe."

At another point in time Olivia would have a lot to say about the security breach, never mind the audacity, but things have escalated to the point where mere espionage is trivial. She starts to step forward, but stops when Lee puts his hand on her arm and addresses the Secretary instead.

"Our universe has been infiltrated by shapeshifters from your side. They've killed a lot of people, including a friend of mine for- for reasons I still don't understand." Lee's hand trembles, but his voice is steady. "You probably also know that a shapeshifter tried to kill Peter and me this morning."

The Secretary's gaze sharpens. "You have proof of this?"

Lincoln produces the device. "Peter knew what to look for. All due respect, sir," he says, picking up the thread, "these things are now running rampant on our world as well, and we have no idea where they came from or what their agenda might be. And the order to abandon the case of the suspected shapeshifter at the bus station came from your office."

The Secretary nods briskly. "Yes, it did." He touches a finger to his ear cuff. "Major Warner, please have Dr. Fayette escorted to my office." Bishop glances over the six of them, assessing. "So you suspect me of ordering this...hit, of being behind this latest wave of shapeshifter activity. I assure you, I did no such thing."

Lincoln stands his ground. "We're going to need more than your word on that."

"What does a man have, if not his word?" Bishop asks rhetorically. "But your misgivings are noted, Captain. I wouldn't expect anything less from someone in your position. Your team was correct, in any case. I've been studying the shapeshifter that was killed at the station."

Liv makes a quiet, almost triumphant sound, but stifles herself when the Secretary glances her way. He nods, acknowledging her conjecture. "It also had a device embedded in its body, similar to that one there." A knock at the door interrupts further exposition. "Yes, come in."

Fayette enters the office and Olivia still has to fight off the urge not to go for her gun. The scientist glances dismissively at the group of them, addressing his boss. "Sir, Sergeant Kane said you wanted to see me."

"Yes. Please tell our visitors about your progress toward identifying the shapeshifters." Bishop looks down at his desk and opens a drawer as if looking for something.

Fayette hesitates, but obeys. "I've identified a signal that we might be able to trace. If I'm right, it should lead us to whoever's responsible for these new shapeshifter prototypes." He sounds smug, confident in his abilities, just like Olivia remembers...and completely missing the humor and compassion of the Brandon Fayette she's met at Massive Dynamic. "If I may ask..."

Bishop's hand comes up out of the desk, holding a cylindrical device with evil-looking prongs on the end, and before anyone can react he's holding the thing out toward Fayette and sparks leap from it to the other man, who convulses and falls to the floor.

"The hell...!" Charlie shouts, and Secretary Bishop turns to them all with a satisfied expression.

"Not everything is as it seems."

* * *

><p>No one shoots the Secretary in the momentary confusion, which in retrospect seems improbable given that five of them were armed and on edge.<p>

In the wake of their stunned silence Bishop urges them all along to one of his labs, nodding to Sergeant Kane at the door. "Thank you, Sergeant, these people are with me."

Fayette's body has been moved to a metal slab, a device removed from the base of his spine. Bishop pontificates over his corpse. "I've suspected for some time that Doctor Fayette had been replaced by a shapeshifter. My men have been following him for some weeks, monitoring all of his communications. Combined with the attack on the State Department employee, it now seems clear that our worst fears have been realized. Elements of our government are being infiltrated."

"But your weapon can identify them." Lincoln sounds like he's still looking for the silver lining in all of this.

"Yes," Bishop agrees, "though it's not a test to be used lightly. If I had been wrong about Doctor Fayette, this tech would've also killed a human being."

Olivia keeps her opinion of Fayette's humanity or lack thereof to herself. "But now we know these shapeshifters represent a third faction, one that means harm to both universes."

The Secretary looks unnervingly relieved by her words. "Precisely, Agent Dunham. Despite all the...misunderstandings...of the past, we can and must find common cause in this. Whoever is behind these creatures is a threat to us all."

Liv clears her throat. "Okay, so, we still don't have a way to track them, though it sounds like Peter had some luck with that before. And Agent Farnsworth is tracing the call that was sent to Murphy...I mean, the shifter that tried to kill Agent Lee and Peter." She takes a breath. "Any other leads?"

Bishop hesitates, then nods. "I recognize the work of these devices. They're based on William Bell's initial designs, but considerably advanced since then." He's silent for a moment before he adds, "I don't know of anyone in the scientific community who could have improved on his work. Even I find it...challenging."

"Great. Add 'mystery rogue evil genius' to the list," Charlie gripes.

"But that's a lead in and of itself, isn't it?" Lee muses. "If the science is so advanced, there must be some kind of trail. Equipment, or weird chemicals, or...um." He pauses when he sees everyone staring at him. "What?"

Lincoln smiles grimly. "Follow the...science, in this case. No, you're absolutely right, it's a good start. Secretary Bishop, if you can provide a list of the kind of things someone would need to create..." he waves at pseudo-Fayette on the table, "these kind of things, even an extrapolation of the equipment involved, we can start a search. Coordinate with MI6 and Mossad and see if anything strikes a chord."

"And yeah, I'll do my part, see if I can pick apart the signal again...but I came here because I needed your help to get home." Peter's gaze is a direct challenge, focused on the Secretary, as if they were the only two people in the room. "The Walter on the other side refuses to help me, but you understand the machine. You share his mind. You're the only person who can help me get back to where I belong."

The Secretary nods gravely. "And I will do everything in my power to help you get home." He pauses, his jaw working, and then he says, "I was hoping for a far different first encounter. Elizabeth very much wants to meet you."

Olivia watches Peter blanch at that. Before she can react, Agent Farnsworth's voice breaks in, speaking into their ears. "I have traced the call to Murphy's cuff back to an industrial park in the Flatiron District. That area has been abandoned since the Amber Riots of 2006."

Lincoln's face hardens. "Get a couple of teams over there to secure it. No one goes in before we arrive, clear? And I want compilation of all satellite footage of the area for the last month, stat."

The Secretary listens to Lincoln's instructions, nodding satisfaction. "I'm going with you. The helicopter will be fastest."

It actually takes several 'copters to accommodate them all, but with the Secretary leading the charge, they reach the district in under half an hour. The signal leads to an unprepossessing warehouse, indistinguishable from the others surrounding it. The Fringe agents who arrived shortly before them are still cordoning off the area and starting to assemble their analysis equipment.

Lincoln eyes Olivia, Lee, and Peter. "Don't suppose I can convince you to wait out here while we do the initial recon. That's our job."

Olivia meets his gaze. "You deputized me, remember?" Next to her, Lee silently shakes his head at the suggestion, while Peter sighs his impatience.

"I said I'd help. Let's get on with it."

"And I won't be left behind, either," Secretary Bishop declares. "Captain Lee, I believe time is of the essence."

"All right, then. Stay in sight of each other, no one goes poking in dark corners without backup." Without glancing in either of their directions, Lincoln adds, "That means you, Olivia."

Olivia doesn't feel the need to answer, but she can just about hear her alternate roll her eyes as Liv does. "Yes, mother."

The seven of them make their way cautiously into the warehouse, and it's immediately evident that whatever the place had been before, it's now become a-storehouse? breeding ground?-for shapeshifters. Half-formed creatures float in bio-tanks, some alive judging by the indicator lights on their tanks, some clearly dead.

The Secretary and Peter move to examine the computers monitoring the tanks while the rest of them do a fast sweep of the warehouse. There's nothing else to find, no mad scientists lurking in the background, not even a dropped gum wrapper or take-out carton to attest to the presence of other people. Liv calls back in disgust, "Nothing here but these...things. They must've cleared out when Murphy didn't report back."

Lincoln nods. "We can assign the forensics crew in teams of three. They can keep an eye on each other that way."

It's a wise precaution given that Fringe Division has been infiltrated, but Olivia can't seem to give the situation her full attention. There's something nagging at the edge of her consciousness, something she can almost-

Lincoln's looking at her with an alarmed expression. He seems like he's about to ask, but then turns around and motions for all the others to stop talking, to stop making noise so she can _listen._

-and yeah, there it is, a slow deliberate tick-tick-tick that's winding up. "We need to get out of here now!"

Lincoln doesn't hesitate, just starts shouting for people to run. Liv and Charlie grab the Secretary's arms and they all hustle for the exit, not stopping as they clear the doors, frantically waving for the other agents to move back past the security tape and duck behind their vehicles.

Everyone's clear and just starting to turn to question why they'd made a mad dash out of the seemingly quiet warehouse when the first muffled _thump_ comes from inside, and then a louder _WHOMP_ accompanied by the sounds of shattering glass, and then the doors blow off as the interior of the building erupts in a blast of flame and noise.

"...well, okay then," Charlie says, just close enough that Olivia can hear him over the crackle and fury of the explosion. "That's it for me today, I'm done."

Olivia glances over at Lincoln and finds him staring back at her, eyes full of gratitude. He picks himself up from the ground and comes over to crouch next to her where she'd taken cover. "I saw it on your face, just like when we were working the Rose case. Listening to something no one else could hear." He grimaces, wiping a streak of sweat off his forehead. "You know, I was all revved up to hate your Doctor Bishop for what he did to you, but that's twice your super-powers have saved my life. All our lives."

He talks about it like she really should be wearing spandex and a cape. Olivia shakes her head mutely, unable to find appropriate words, and Lincoln just nods and gets to his feet and starts directing the clean-up effort. The warehouse is a total loss, whatever secrets it might have been holding now consumed by the incendiaries left behind.

The Secretary seems...oddly not-displeased by the turn of events. "The sacrifice of these creatures goes to show we're on the correct trail."

Peter's eyes narrow. "It also shows clearly that someone thinks that our being here is a threat."

"That too, of course." Secretary Bishop wipes a bit of ash off his shoulder with a frown. "And we will continue to push the issue. But I believe I've had enough excitement for one day. Peter, I...would still like to extend an invitation to you, for dinner with Elizabeth and myself. I can guarantee your safety," his mouth twists wryly, "insofar as I haven't yet been attacked or replaced."

Peter glances over her way, and the look on his face is a study in contradiction. Olivia gets the message that he's not looking forward to what will most likely be an extremely uncomfortable evening...but this might be his only chance to convince the Secretary to help him get home. She's responsible for him, but only to a point, and it's not her decision. "Up to you, Peter."

He nods, turning back to the Secretary, all confidence. "I'm looking forward to it," he says, and it's almost believable.

"Clean-up crews have this in hand," Lincoln says, over Olivia's shoulder. "The rest of us are heading back to division."

She glances at him. "Figure out our next move?"

"Yeah." Lincoln looks exhausted and Olivia's reminded of what a trying day it's been, from the assassination attempt to confronting the Secretary to the booby-trapped warehouse. "Long day, gonna be longer still."

* * *

><p>When they return to Fringe Division, Lincoln's called away by a half-dozen requests that need his immediate attention. Olivia, Lee, Liv, and Charlie all take a few minutes to clean up-there's ash in her <em>hair,<em> Olivia realizes with disgust, and brushes herself off as best she can.

They gather at Agent Farnsworth's station. A number of images are cycling across her auxiliary screens.

"I have the satellite footage that Captain Lee requested of the warehouse area," Astrid informs the four of them. "Analysis programs are working to discern individuals and run them against the public databases."

Charlie looks like he's eaten something sour. "If these shapeshifters are taking people's identities-that means they're leaving corpses behind, right? And maybe they got sloppy with their, uh, victims. We should run recently deceased through surveillance footage, looking for them walking around after their recorded time of death."

Agent Farnsworth looks shocked. "Even if the search is limited the metropolitan area, that is an extraordinarily high number of parameters to cover. It would tax the processors and leave very little power for other operations. I most strongly recommend against-"

"But we can refine that search, right?" Liv gestures toward the scrolling satellite images. "Just use the images of people who've gone into and out of that building for the last couple of weeks. Can't be more than a dozen, from what I've seen."

Charlie grumbles at her and Liv shrugs, smirking. "Same idea, just reversed."

Olivia had been about to suggest exactly the same thing, but she opts for watching with interest as Astrid recalculates the parameters. "Yes, I believe that brings the number of variables down to an acceptable scale."

"Great. Let it run tonight, maybe we'll even have something by morning. Right now, I could eat a cow." Liv grins to their stares. "What? Nearly being blown up makes me hungry."

Lee glances her way and seems about to second the motion, but then Olivia catches sight of something in the cycling footage and freezes.

"Olivia?" he asks, and then sees it-her-for himself and takes in a deep shocked breath.

"That woman. The redhead. That's Nina Sharp."

Charlie obviously doesn't recognize the name, but after a moment Liv nods. "The Massive Dynamic lady."

Olivia remembers searching for Massive Dynamic over here, and not finding it; this version of Nina Sharp had obviously taken a very different path. "The this-side version of her, yeah. I wonder if Waltern- the Secretary worked with her here, too. She's, uh, brilliant at logistics and planning."

"The kind of person you want running your secret shapeshifter infiltration program?" Charlie drawls, and Olivia nods reluctantly. "If she's all that over here, she'll have gone to ground. But now that we know who to look for, in conjunction with tracing the right kinds of scientific equipment-we'll find her."

Agent Farnsworth nods. "Adding her image to the search, highest priority." She glances briefly up at the group of them. "I suggest you all do as Agent Dunham suggests and...unwind for the night."

"That's Astrid-speak for, 'Get out of here, you're cramping my style,'" Liv notes, and Astrid doesn't contradict her. "Lincoln's got stuff he needs to handle, but the rest of us can go-you two are welcome to join us, if you want."

But Olivia has hope of other plans. "You'll be all right?" she murmurs to Lee, and the look in his eyes is understanding as he waves her off.

She makes her way up the stairs to the glass office. Lincoln's staring at his datapad, a somber expression on his face. "Hey," she says softly.

"Hey." Lincoln waves her in. "We really need to come up with a different term than 'paperwork,' since it isn't anymore. Feel like I'm being buried up to my neck in pixels, though."

"You should- can you take a break?" Olivia asks, feeling strangely shy. "I thought we might...spend some time together."

"Nowhere I'd rather be than with you," Lincoln says, looking doleful. "But I have to go see Murphy's sister, she's his only living relative-"

God, she'd forgotten about the supplanted agent. "Oh, no, of course. I should've thought." His obligation is doubled, both as Murphy's division head and his friend, as if notifications weren't difficult enough. "I'm so sorry."

He nods. "It's not- we weren't _that_ close, not drinking buddies or anything, but I've known him a long time. So it's my job for a couple of reasons." He stares down at the desk. "I'd give nearly anything to have Colonel Broyles back to do this, except he died saving you. And I'm- I'm glad he did. I know that's a terrible thing to say."

Maybe it is, but Olivia's still alive because of the colonel's actions, and she can't regret that either. "I'm okay with you feeling that way," she says softly, and the small smile Lincoln gives her is both grateful and full of warmth.

But then he sighs, and Olivia knows he's got an obligation he can't-and shouldn't-be distracted from. "I'll see you tomorrow. Charlie and Liv were going to take Agent Lee out to dinner, maybe I'll catch up with them."

"I'm sure that'll be a riot," Lincoln murmurs, but he's distracted and rightfully so. "Yeah. Tomorrow, Olivia."

She does catch up with Charlie and Liv and Lee, and none of them comment on her late addition. Olivia's content to let them do most of the talking over food and a well-earned drink or two, still thinking through the events of the day.

They're halfway through the meal when Liv looks at Lee and says suddenly, "Hey, want to settle a bet?"

Charlie glances at her, then starts to laugh. "Pretty sure that's cheating, Liv."

She waves him off and arches an eyebrow at Lee. He looks curious, but amenable. "Sure. If I can."

"What's your middle name?"

"Tyrone," he answers immediately.

Liv stares at him. "Seriously?"

Lee shrugs, taking a sip of the single drink he's been nursing throughout dinner. "Yeah, it was my great-grandfather's name. Why?"

"Oh," Liv says, going for casual and not fooling anyone, "just curious."

Lee eyes her but chooses not to push. "Well, speaking of curious," he starts, and deftly turns the conversation to differences between their worlds, all the little things he'd noticed since they arrived in the morning. It's an excellent tactic that keeps Charlie and Liv engaged and Olivia from having to actively participate in the discussion; she'll have to thank him for the thoughtfulness later.

Freedom from the weight of conversation, paradoxically, lets Olivia look beyond her own head. Fringe agents over here don't wear jewelry on duty, but on their off-hours they're free to embellish themselves however they wish. With a start, Olivia finally sees what's missing: the engagement ring on Liv's right hand, the wedding band on Charlie's left. Charlie catches her glance and shakes his head, slightly, an admonition not to ask. She'd forgotten how fast things change here, sometimes, most often not for the better.

The rest of the evening passes in a haze, until Olivia and Lee are being dropped off at a hotel. Liv goes in with Lee to give the front desk vouchers for the rooms, while Charlie offers Olivia an unnecessary hand out of the car.

His look at her is full of concern, the same kind of head-tilted regard she remembers from her first days at the FBI. "Hey. You doing okay?"

Charlie sort of looks like he wants to hug her, and doesn't feel like he has the right. Ironic, considering her memories of him are just as intimate as the ones of Lincoln, but things are complicated enough. "I'm all right. Thanks, Charlie."

"De nada," he replies, and settles for tipping his nonexistent cap at her. "And, y'know, thanks to you for saving all our lives today."

She scrunches her nose at him and he laughs. Olivia realizes, far too late, that she really does care about him in his own right, not just as a doppelganger of her lost friend. Whatever went wrong with his marriage, she hopes it doesn't keep him from being happy. But as much as she wants to tell him so, other topics are easier. And he'll know what she means, anyway. "We'll get these things, Charlie."

"I know we will." His hand rises, pats her arm awkwardly before giving her a push toward the hotel doors. "Now go get some sleep. Plenty of time to save the world tomorrow."

"Yes, mom," she says, in a deliberate mockery of Liv's tone to Lincoln earlier, and Charlie snorts and waves her off.

She really is exhausted. In her sterile-yet-somehow-cozy room Olivia lies down to try to rest, feeling unaccountably exasperated that she's finally in the same universe as Lincoln again, and she's not with him. There are too many critical events happening right now to waste time and energy being annoyed about the state of her personal life, but right now, all her brain wants to contemplate is Lincoln, and his mouth, and his mouth on her.

And, well. She can think of him, at least, as her fingers stroke between her legs, gently and then less gently. Her own practiced touch might be a poor substitute for his presence, but an orgasm is still an orgasm, and enough release to let Olivia finally drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>The team reassembles at Fringe Division in the morning. Olivia and Lee are greeted like agents on loan from another agency, with polite courtesies...and more than a few sideways glances from those trying to reconcile their appearances with those of their alternates. Peter gets even more of those glances, the Secretary's famous lost son reappeared like an honest miracle, the good kind this world sees far too little of.<p>

Peter seems pensive, almost shaken, by whatever happened last night with the Secretary and his wife. Olivia tries to imagine being in his shoes, just for a moment: She thinks about his meeting a mother he'd lost, and the fact that people on this side remember him...or maybe an alternate version of him. Either way, it must be a lot to endure, and she resolves to be more patient with him.

The actual Fringe team had already rolled in, bright and early, and Olivia suspects that Astrid never left. She'd be embarrassed about her relative tardiness, if the lack of coffee hadn't made getting moving this morning so much more difficult.

When she and Lee and Peter go up to Lincoln's office, they're met by Lincoln's emphatic finger pointed directly at his double.

"You!" he barks, although his tone lacks true anger. "Why would you tell her that?"

Lee stares at him for a second before a smile starts to creep across his mouth. "My bad."

Lincoln shakes his head in mock disgust. "And now it's all 'Tyrone' this and 'Tyrone' that and I'm gonna have the whole division calling me by Grandpa Lee's name. Thanks a lot."

"Maybe if you hadn't made it such a big secret, _Tyrone,_" Liv drawls, "nobody would care."

"Gonna write you up for insubordination," Lincoln mutters, but it's clearly an empty threat. "Okay, anyway, let's go over where we are this morning."

Where they are is pretty much the same as yesterday, although Agent Farnsworth's searches have already identified a number of probable shapeshifters. Peter's given a station and an assistant to help him try to decrypt the implant signal, and the rest of them spend the morning going over the data, looking for new angles.

Olivia and Lincoln keep sneaking looks in each others' direction, but there's too much to process to slip away for anything more than a brief stretch. At one point Lincoln leans over her shoulder, ostensibly to indicate something on her pad. "Things are such a mess, can't catch a break today. There's a maintenance closet that isn't monitored..." he whispers, half joking and half hopeful, and Olivia's right on the verge of agreeing when they're interrupted by the overhead screens of the situation room, all lighting up at once with the schematics of a dockside area.

They gather around Agent Farnsworth's desk for the debrief. "This is Fort Lee, New Jersey. There is a warehouse right on the Hudson that meets all the parameters of the requested search: the presence of Ms. Sharp, significant deliveries of specialized scientific equipment, and a number of individuals who match those in the surveillance footage from the Flatiron District." Astrid pauses and adds, "I have ascertained the presence of a large number of armed soldiers at the facility as well. It's practically a military installation."

"Good thing we can call out a military response, then. I want 'copters, SWAT teams, everyone we can pull in from other ops. D.O.D. has operational oversight, Charlie will coordinate with other agencies on the ground." Lincoln glances around, speaking to the agents who will lead the charge. "We hit hard and fast, hopefully catch 'em before they can set another bomb. We take Sharp alive, if possible."

Things move fast after that, and Olivia can't help but feel slightly jealous of how easily and quickly the op comes together. On her side the logistics alone would take a massive effort of coordination, and the interdepartmental squabbling over credit and blame might mire the whole operation in red tape. Here, Fringe Division says "Jump" and everyone replies, "How high?" while the Lookers synchronize the entire maneuver from their screens.

Within two hours they've stormed the facility, finding more shapeshifters in tanks...and this world's Nina Sharp, looking completely put out by this turn of events. But her defiant, imperious smile is familiar and Olivia knows she won't get a satisfying answer, even as she can't help asking.

"Why all this? What's the point?"

"Evolution, my dear." The doppelganger of Nina Sharp cackles to Olivia's expression. "You yourself represent a quantum step in human evolution. I was merely trying to...explore another option."

"And set your pawns in power at the same time," Liv accuses. "But they can't be the endgame, or you wouldn't have blown up the ones in the warehouse. And we've gone through your history, you don't have the skills to have done all this yourself. Who are you working for?"

Sharp's expression goes stony. "I believe I'll be wanting my lawyer now."

"Good luck with that, lady," Charlie sneers. "With the list of charges against you, the D.O.D. can hold you indefinitely without representation or trial."

She just glares at him, her expression unchanging. She refuses to say another word, and Olivia's pretty sure that state is going to continue for the foreseeable future.

They get Sharp packed off into custody, the bomb squad makes a proper search of the building to make sure there's no more unpleasant surprises left behind, and Fringe teams sweep in to begin cataloging and examining the shapeshifter tanks and other equipment.

Olivia and Lee find themselves sidelined, watching as this world's experts do their expert work. Lee looks a little stunned. "So- is that it? We shut them down, case closed?" But then he shakes his head. "No, of course it's not. There's whoever Ms. Sharp was working for, and we still don't understand their agenda. And we don't know how many of these things are loose on our side."

He's looking for closure on Robert's death and Olivia doesn't have the heart to tell him that this might be all there is. Eventually you just...learned to live with what you have, like she had with John.

And Lee reminds her so much of herself, when she first started working at Fringe Division. She hadn't been satisfied with any of their resolutions either, still wasn't. But she'd learned to appreciate the small victories, and this one wasn't insignificant. "We'll deal with it, Lincoln. But we've done a huge thing here. Take a moment to enjoy that?"

Lee looks past her, smiling a little. "You're right. And I can handle the rest back at division, if you...need a minute."

It's so tactfully put that it takes Olivia a moment to realize that he's looking over at Lincoln, who's staring back their way. And Lee, she knows, wouldn't have missed any of their frustrated glances. She just nods, throat already tightening, knowing that another goodbye is imminent.

* * *

><p>Back at Fringe Division, all the agents are collectively ecstatic about what they'd found at Sharp's base. Once the Lookers hack the mainframe, the shapeshifters could be identified and tracked by their own implants. "And we can use the same signal on our side," Lee breathes, sounding like he can't quite believe that the solution to his quest is in sight.<p>

Olivia leaves him and Peter to coordinate the details with Charlie and Liv, and makes her way up to Lincoln's office again.

"Alone at last," Lincoln murmurs, and Olivia has to laugh, because - well, it's technically true, but the glass-enclosed office isn't at all suitable for a tryst.

"I'm so glad we were able to help you," she says, and it's such a poor substitute for everything she really wants to say.

"Lincoln, he's a smart guy," he says with a wry twist of his mouth.

"Yes, he is." Both of them are, and he knows it. "I- have to report back to Broyles. And follow up on whatever shapeshifters are left in my world."

"Yeah, I know." Lincoln bites at his lip. "Wish I could manufacture an excuse to keep you here, but..."

But neither of them are that irresponsible. Unfortunately. "Walk me out?"

"Sure." But as they head down one of the corridors, taking the long way to the front door, Lee glances around and then tugs sharply on her arm. "C'mere."

She's pulled into a...supply closet, she sees, before the hall light cuts out. Olivia can't help but break into helpless laughter. "I get the feeling I'm not the first person you've dragged in here."

"No," Lincoln says, and his voice in the dark is unsteady. "But maybe the-"

Olivia lunges at him, finding his mouth with her own and cutting him off before he can finish. After the first awkward moment's clash of lips and teeth he's kissing her back, his tongue tangling with hers.

And irresponsible or not, worlds ending or not, she's not letting him out of here before they finish this. Her mouth skates across his cheek to lick at his ear, her hands reach down to cup his ass.

Lincoln groans, pulling her closer. "This isn't what I wanted, you deserve so much more."

She grinds against him, the crotch of her panties already feeling soaked through. "It's what we have," Olivia pants, and steps back just enough to toe off her shoes and unzip her slacks. And- despite everything, she can't be that reckless. "Oh, dammit, condom?"

"Yeah, left leg pocket-" and thank God for cargo pants and well-prepared men.

"Boy scout," she teases, although there's nothing boyish about the rasp of stubble against her neck, or his cock as she rolls the condom onto him.

"Full-on Wolf Scout," he gasps, his hands around her waist. "Olivia- oh-"

She hums agreement as he slides home, one of her legs wrapped around his hip, the other trembling for balance. Lincoln's mouth finds hers again, and they breathe into each other's lungs as they thrust and groan against each other, the shelves pressing into her back and starting bruises she's going to regret tomorrow. But there are no regrets today, nothing whatsoever to lament in yet another stolen moment, so much more than the sum of its part.

{end}

* * *

><p>NOTES<p>

Most annoying part of "Back to Where...": Olivia being left behind while Peter and Lincoln went on an Adventure. Unlikely! Also, Blue!Lincoln would never give up his gun to Peter. And how *did* Peter travel around the Red'verse without a Show-Me or cash? (Yeah, yeah, magical con man skillz...)

Super-cool hair art: search for Jenine Sheros for examples.

On Fringepedia, the O Glyph = a butterfly for Olivia.

Olivia's super-hearing (or just exceptional perception?) came into play in "Amber 31422," couldn't resist using it again.

When the alternate universe reads your mind: I randomly wrote "Wolf Scout" instead of "Eagle Scout" as a variation to the Red'verse's highest scout rank, only to be accidentally validated by Wikipedia: "The BSA's highest award was originally conceived of as the Wolf Scout, as shown in the June 1911 Official Handbook for Boys." Well, cool. (And then, of course, I thought of elfin's Pack'verse and laughed. :D)

...this fic turned out much longer than I thought it would be. Plot, whut? But the show did all the heavy lifting; I just rearranged to my liking.

For much (much) more, see my page at AO3. Link in my profile.


	20. Worlds on Fire

**Worlds on Fire**

Fandom: Fringe

Relationships: Olivia Dunham/Alternate Lincoln Lee; Olivia Dunham/Peter Bishop

Rating: PG-13

Wordcount: ~3,600

Summary: An ending and a beginning.

Spoilers: Through "Welcome to Westfield" and "A Better Human Being."

Notes: Quantum Entanglements series, finale.

Thanks to samjohnsson for beta.

* * *

><p>New cases appear to divert Olivia's attention-the precognitive girl, the man with a savior complex. Olivia gives them her best effort as usual but feels like she's just marking time, waiting for a chance to see Lincoln again.<p>

With Walter now on board with the effort to help Peter find his home, Peter's temper improves, and he shows himself to be helpful and insightful on the cases. Olivia finally sees in him the man that some other version of her loves, and she continues to hope Walter can find a solution for both their sakes.

And then there's an event in Westfield that brings the two universes crashing together, and something about their interaction flips a switch in Olivia's mind and she starts to _remember._ Over the next few days, with Walter and Lee and Peter all hovering over her with concern even while they're trying to deal with the hive-mind teenagers, Olivia remembers everything.

She remembers her history with Peter now, she remembers loving him. She remembers all the cases they worked together, and his patience, and his guilt over Liv.

(Oh, but _Liv._ Olivia's hands clench into fists when she thinks of her double now. There's a score to settle there, interdimensional relations be damned. Their truce was established lacking critical information and Olivia is sorely tempted to break it, given what she now knows. Only thing is, Liv will never understand why.)

She remembers how Peter was with Walter, and how much better Walter was with him.

She remembers how _she_ was with Peter, not-not better, precisely, but secure in the knowledge that he'd be there for her, always, even while he challenged all her comfortable patterns and made her stretch outside of her comfort zone.

She remembers Peter's wry humor, and his cleverness, and how his skin felt against hers.

Olivia remembers knowing that she was going to marry him, someday.

It's all come flooding back and there's no reason they shouldn't pick up where they left off, except.

Lincoln.

The sex with him was amazing, mind-blowing even, but what does she really know about the other world's Lincoln Lee, anyway? A handful of days, that's as long as she's known him. Well, that and the two months when she wasn't herself. ...and, if she's counting them, the three years of memories Liv had of him before that, still embedded in Olivia's brain. The fine details have faded, but the emotions-friendship, trust, fondness and attraction and care-still remain. Olivia can't even claim that those feelings are borrowed interlopers anymore; she's learned to tell the difference in the texture between her own memories and the implanted ones. They might be borrowed, but the impressions left behind are no less valid.

And he-

He loves her. It's impossible not to acknowledge now, with all their realities laid bare.

That Captain Lincoln Lee loves Olivia Dunham in any incarnation or any timeline isn't really in question. And after the days spent with him, Olivia is more than satisfied that he knows the difference between them.

So Lincoln loves her and Olivia...she doesn't know. Cares about him. Wants him even more. Loves the way he makes her laugh, and the way he so obviously wants to take care of her, and-

Why it's so hard just to allow herself to admit she loves him, Olivia can't understand. It took a long time with Peter, too, so maybe it's just been too fast with Lincoln to process. Maybe-oh, definitely-she's still terrified that the bridge will close and she'll lose him forever, and her reserve is her rational mind's way of trying to protect her.

Too late on that account.

She's got a tattoo on her back that matches his, for God's sake. Olivia doesn't have a memento of John, the man she was _engaged_ to, except for his medal buried in a drawer somewhere. She's permanently marked her skin to remember Lincoln by and if that's not love-

Astrid said she'd be there to pick up the pieces if things fell apart. There are, Olivia thinks bitterly, far too many pieces for anyone to cope with. A cosmic game of 52 pickup, with all her memories strewn across two worlds.

* * *

><p>Peter, meanwhile, is being amazingly understanding. "I didn't exist. How could I be jealous of you when-" he pauses, frowning. "That's wrong. I'm completely jealous, and upset, and angry. But not at you. Or him, for that matter. But Olivia, I'm really fucking pissed off at whatever did this to us. And I know you need time to sort it all out."<p>

He stops talking, paces, and suddenly, shockingly, nearly puts his fist through the wall. Olivia checks his hand over and gets the kit to clean the cuts; he's lucky he didn't shatter his knuckles. "It feels like we never get a break and that hurts, Olivia. It tears me up that we're finally back in the same place and I can't be with you."

"I know," she says softly, bent over his hand. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about." Peter's fury is nearly a tangible thing, a caged beast with no one to savage. But he's gentle with her, stepping back to give her space and time.

Olivia puts off going back over the bridge, unable to imagine what she can say to Lincoln, or even what she wants to say. Her life has suddenly become a soap opera, and it seems she now has a choice between two lovers.

She'd once told Rachel that she was jealous of Rachel's ability to date two guys at once. Olivia would give anything to take it back.

Except that she can't imagine losing either of them, now. It's probably _obvious_ to everyone else that she needs to choose the man who lives in her own world. But Olivia remembers life without Peter now, too, and arguments of "you can't live without him" don't wash. She did, and contentedly.

That same argument doesn't stand with Lincoln, either, considering how recently he's come into her life. Although if she counts those borrowed memories Olivia's known him for exactly as long as she's known Peter, and all the equations reset to zero.

* * *

><p>Far too quickly, the decision is being made for her. Both Doctor Bishops determine that the bridge has done its job in restoring balance to both worlds, and started to overcompensate by pulling them together. Westfield was the first event, but sensors are detecting similar vibrations starting to build elsewhere.<p>

Peter had provided the missing piece to the puzzle of the bridge room. It's his DNA that can trigger or deactivate the machine, and once Olivia removes her telekinetic "crowbar," the room really will wink out like a soap bubble.

There's no time to delay, or debate. The worlds need to be separated if they're to survive, all the scientists agree.

But even that doesn't have to be the end for her and Lincoln. If Olivia works at it, if she doses herself with Cortexiphan and hope, she can learn how to jump universes without the aid of others or being scared out of her mind. The ultimate in long-distance relationships, but not impossible. Not for her.

It's a possibility that has nothing to do with reality. Olivia's decision was made the moment she regained her memories of Peter, and trying to pretend otherwise just insults them all.

She has to see Lincoln one more time, at least, to explain. Or failing that, to find some kind of conclusion they both can live with.

* * *

><p>This meeting, Olivia refuses to have on the bridge. While the final arrangements are being made, they find a quiet diner on Lincoln's side just across the water from Liberty Island. Thankfully it doesn't look at all like they'd eaten at before, the meal that ended with a walk to his apartment, because those associations would just be too much.<p>

The words sound unbelievable, gibberish coming out of her own mouth as she tries to tell Lincoln about another timeline that she suddenly remembers, one where she was (is) in love with Peter Bishop. Olivia decides, after a lot of soul-searching, to omit the part about Liv sleeping with Peter while she took Olivia's place. The knowledge can't cause anything but harm, and she'd forgiven Peter and moved past it once; no reason to drag it all out in the open again, especially to the man who loved her alternate once. Maybe still does.

Lincoln listens without comment, at first searching her face as if he's trying to figure out if she's joking, then with increasing bewilderment. When she finally winds down, he looks...like she feels, like his whole reality has just been reshaped around him. But his first question is filled with nothing but concern. "You're sure these are really all your memories? These things really happened to you?"

"Yes," she says. "There's no proof of it in either of our worlds, because Peter was erased so completely. But I can feel that they're true. And it's not," she adds, "like when Liv's memories were superimposed over my own. I still have some of those, and they feel different. What I remember about Peter, that's...that's real."

She can't help the smile on her face, and maybe that's what convinces him. "You're happy," Lincoln says, and it's not a question.

"Yes," Olivia says again around the lump in her throat. The words leave her in a rush. "I don't know what to say. Even with- I don't want to lose you."

This is a truth too, one she hasn't wanted to admit. For all that she loves Peter-and she does honestly love him, 'til death or shifting timelines do them part again-she can't deny her feelings for this man.

"Olivia, don't." She looks into Lincoln's face, startled by his tone. His eyes are sad, but resolute. "We both knew we were only...borrowing each other."

She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Lincoln smiles slightly, the expression never touching his eyes. "That doesn't make what we shared any less real. I won't forget. You won't either. You're wearing my-"

His steady façade falters, nearly cracks, before he goes on. "Unless time really does reset itself again, we'll still have marks to remember each other by. And if it somehow reverts to your other timeline...I guess it doesn't matter."

"It always matters," she says, knowing it for fact. "Broyles said something to me, after the McClennan case. He said that he believed there were people who leave an indelible mark on your soul. An imprint that can never be erased." She takes his hand, feeling his fingers twine around hers. "You've been that for me."

"You've been-" Lincoln starts, and then shakes his head. "You know. I hope you know. And I would really rather not start bawling here in public, so that's all I'm gonna say." He manages a small smile, but there are standing tears in his eyes and Olivia doesn't need to see them fall to know what's in his heart.

Together, they head back to the bridge.

* * *

><p>There's handshaking all around, each touch and word laden with the knowledge that this truly might be the last interaction between worlds. Olivia nods a cordial farewell to Liv-it's as much as she can manage-and hugs Charlie both for himself and for her own Charlie, the farewell that was stolen from her.<p>

By the time it's down to her and Lincoln everyone else has drawn back to their opposite sides, giving them space. They stand in the middle of the room and it really is goodbye, after all.

Further words aren't necessary. Olivia puts her hand on Lincoln's neck, draws him in. Right before their lips touch, he murmurs, "Olivia...everyone's watching."

"I know," she says. "I don't care."

The kiss is gentle and sweet and lasts a long time.

When they finally pull back Lincoln is smiling, and that's the image she's going to take back with her to her world.

Olivia glances over his shoulder toward the other world's door, where Liv and Charlie are waiting. She doesn't even have to say it. "We will," Charlie says, as Liv nods, "Of course."

Lincoln backs toward the doorway without another sound, at least until his foot's on the threshold. His last word, predictably, makes her laugh.

_"Cooties."_

Liv starts to reach toward him, then drops her arm. Charlie's hand is on Lincoln's shoulder as the three of them go through the portal, and that's the last she sees of him.

Olivia turns to face her own team. Lee is blinking fast behind his glasses, looking almost overwhelmed, but his arm is around Astrid as she weeps into his shoulder. Broyles has turned away so she can't see his face, and Walter's eyes are sad and full of compassion.

Peter meets her gaze fully, composed and without judgment.

"Okay," Olivia Dunham says, and her voice is strong. "Let's go home."

{end}

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue 1 <strong>

Lincoln and Astrid take one car; Broyles mutters, "I'll take Dr. Bishop home," and marches off with him at a fast clip.

Peter smiles wryly. "Want a ride?"

"Long walk otherwise," Olivia says, and laughs for no reason at all.

The trip back to Boston is silent but somehow avoids being awkward. Olivia finds herself staring at her reflection in the window, surprised by how often it smiles, not surprised by the tears on its face.

Peter walks her all the way to her apartment door. There's a pause but this, too, isn't awkward; it's just a moment. He looks at her for a long, thoughtful breath.

"That looked like a good kiss."

"It was," Olivia says as Peter's hand comes up to cup her cheek, his thumb grazing over her lower lip.

He just nods. "When you're ready, 'livia."

She steps back, not quickly, and he follows her cue, offering her almost a half-bow before turning to head back to his car. Olivia has the key in the lock and Peter's almost at the stairwell when she calls out, "Peter."

He turns instantly, as if he'd been waiting for her voice.

"Maybe sooner than you think."

Olivia smiles and closes the door behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue 2<strong>

It's a few weeks before Olivia stops seeing Lincoln in the corners of her apartment, stops smelling him on her pillow even after the sheets have gone through the laundry. She grows to loathe the sight of her empty kitchen and stops at a bookstore to investigate cookbooks; she finds one called "How to Cook Everything" that seems promising.

Fringe Division goes on, with Peter integrating smoothly into the team again. He and Lee-_Lincoln,_ Olivia keeps reminding herself, even if she hasn't gotten there in her head yet-have developed a companionable friendship, bonding over shared nerdity and a love of obscure weird science. She refuses to say "bromance" but it's on the tip of her tongue when she sees them together. She'd even start to wonder about the two of them if Astrid and Lee hadn't started seeing each other outside the lab.

Astrid had actually _asked_ if that was okay by her, as if Olivia had claim to all the Lincoln Lees in every world. And of course it's more than fine, because Lee has become something like the brother Olivia never had.

Walter is doing much better too, and has started to make noises about moving out of the lab. He declines the suggestion to go back to his old house, which he's all but ceded to Peter. "A young man needs his space," he keeps saying, with what he probably believes are unobtrusive glances over at Olivia. Both she and Peter ignore the insinuations, concentrating on redeveloping their working relationship first of all, and relearning each other's presence.

But at last it almost feels like old times in the lab, and when Peter asks her to dinner, she agrees.

Peter chooses a restaurant, somewhere neither of them had been before, perhaps signifying a new start. It isn't, precisely, but Olivia appreciates the symbolism regardless. Somewhere between the spanakopita and the dolmades she finds herself laughing, listening to Peter spin a tale about an ill-fated business deal somewhere on the other side of the world. Like so many of Peter's stories from that span of his life, it ends with him fleeing the area with only the clothes on his back...and a handful of emergency credit cards and passports, all in different names.

"And you seemed like such a smooth operator when I met you," she mocks him, and her tone is laden with affection she hasn't forgotten, after all.

Peter grins. "All a façade. But you saw right through me."

"You always saw through me, too," Olivia murmurs, and the long look they share is full of so many memories, good and otherwise.

"You seem...lighter," he says, and pauses, because now both of them remember another timeline where that sentiment meant something else entirely. But Olivia just smiles.

"I feel lighter."

"He was good for you." Peter's voice stays even, neither accusing nor condoning.

"Yes." Olivia looks at him, the few brief joyous moments she shared with Lincoln tumbling through her mind. "But it's time to move on."

He reaches out over the table and she takes his hand. "Tell me what that means?"

"It means I remember everything, and I don't want to go backward." Her fingers stroke over his palm. "We've both seen too much to pretend that our lives might not be terribly short, or sad, or both. One we can't do anything about except to be as careful as we can. The other...I'm tired of being sad, Peter."

His fingers tighten around hers. "This is how Lincoln made you feel?"

Olivia searches his face. It's not a question of jealousy, she knows that for sure. Maybe he's wondering why she never felt that way with him. But she hadn't had that kind of time with Peter, that kind of leisure or simplicity, and that's simply due to how their short time together had played out.

She's not going to dissemble, either. "That's part of it, yes."

"And the other part?"

"Everything else." Olivia laughs to his bewildered look, she can't help it. "Our lives. Everything we've been through. We just have to...be happy while we can." Lincoln's words too, but Peter doesn't need to hear that now.

Peter's expression slowly spreads into a broad grin. "I like this philosophy. I am willing to embrace this philosophy wholesale."

"Good. Let's start."

His surprise is precious. "Right now?"

"Why wait?"

"Can't think of a single damn reason," he says, and signals for the check.

They go back to the house rather than Olivia's apartment, because the memories here are better for both of them. "Yet another first time," Olivia murmurs, and Peter sighs softly.

"I'd rather think of it as picking up where we left off."

"In that case," Olivia says, letting her joy bubble up in her voice, "we're not nearly naked enough yet."

Peter looks at her and then laughs, moving in to kiss her. It's awkward for only the briefest moment before they find their rhythm again, rediscovering all the ways they fit together. Their clothes fall away on the way up the stairs and they're finally in the bed again, naked against each other the way they're supposed to be. Both of them have recent marks to discover: Olivia runs her tongue along the new scar on Peter's hand, learning its lines, and he kisses the new tattoo on her lower back, accepting it as part of who she is.

In their mutually remembered timeline they had too short a time before things fell apart to really get to know each other's bodies, but now Peter plays her like a virtuoso, every movement perfectly in tune with her desires. Entirely different from Lincoln, but with similar results.

It's puzzling enough that Olivia has to ask, once she can speak again. "Peter, how did you know-"

He pauses before answering, and it's significant enough to let her know this isn't something trivial. He stands up and starts to pace. "I...haven't told you everything about when I was lost in time. We had fifteen years."

Olivia sits up, startled and alarmed. "What does that mean?"

"When I went into the machine, near as I can tell, I was thrown into the body of my future self. I never realized that until I woke up, and then there wasn't time to explain." He runs a hand over his face. "I imagine it was kind of like when you had Liv's memories. In that future, we'd been married for fifteen years." Peter smiles wanly. "I recall a few things."

She stares at him, trying to encompass the scope of his revelation. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"A lot of it wasn't relevant, Olivia." He sits down on the bed and takes her hand. "The world in that future was dying, vortexes opening everywhere. The alternate universe had already been destroyed. It isn't something I really _wanted_ to remember." He must've caught the alarm on her face. "But that's all been averted, it can't happen. It won't happen."

"There's something else," she says, watching his face.

His expression tightens. "Yes. Please don't- I don't want to tell you."

"All right," she says softly, because it must be devastating if he's that upset about the memory of something he's already sworn doesn't matter anymore. "But someday?"

"Fifteenth wedding anniversary," Peter says, and then does a double take, his expression split between embarrassment and surprise at his own impulsive words. "Too soon?"

"Little bit," Olivia laughs, pulling him back down.

"But maybe sooner than you think."

* * *

><p><strong>Final Epilogue: Five Years Later<strong>

Codas in 100 words.

**Over Here:**

Grandpa Walter always contributes the most interesting offering to Elizabeth's pile of birthday presents. This year, it's a cleverly designed logic puzzle full of moving parts and blinking lights. Perhaps a little advanced for a four-year-old, Olivia and Peter both agree, but certainly more engaging than any simple mass-market toy.

Predictably, Elizabeth's attention is more immediately drawn to a brightly colored stuffed dragon and a toy truck with a working siren. But a few days later, Olivia finds her daughter sitting on the floor, staring at the puzzle with concentration.

The levers and lights move in time with her breath.

* * *

><p><strong>Over There:<strong>

It's going to be a long time before their world returns to what it once was, but things are definitely on the right track. A scientist in Scotland (appropriate, that) had cloned a small herd of healthy baby sheep, and even if the coffee supply never reaches its former glory, at least they can look up after a storm and see rainbows again.

Rainbows are best with someone to appreciate them with and these days, Lincoln has no lack of company. "Honey, I'm home," Lincoln calls out, and waits to hear which of the two voices will answer him back.

{end, really}

* * *

><p><strong>NOTES <strong>

_Stop your crying and dry up your endless tears  
>Don't you know you've got the key, love sets you free<br>Worlds on fire full of pain and endless fear  
>Don't you know, open your eyes, love sets you free<em>  
>- Erasure<p>

Mark Bittman's "How to Cook Everything" (and "How to Cook Everything Vegetarian") is *excellent.* Highly recommended for all cooks, no matter what skill level.

...did I ever think this series would end up Peter/Olivia? No, I did not. But since I'd been so determined to adhere to canon, perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised. On the other hand, I was never going to write anything that had 1) Peter needing an Observer to tell him who to love (embarrassing for all involved) or 2) Olivia choosing to forget any life she's led. So that meant a massive canon divergence, and a logical end to the series.

I wrote a line in "Time on Our Hands" that proved unexpectedly useful: _Lincoln looks thoughtful. "I doubt he's as delicate as you think."_  
>- that was about Blue!Lee, but it applies to Red!Lincoln too. It's easy to woobify him, but a disservice. He's not a fragile flower.<p>

This is not the end of my Olivia/Red!Lincoln obsession, and odds are v. good there will be a return to this theme sometime.


	21. Epilogue 3

Or, How the Threesome was Fixed. Properly fits between Epilogue 2 and the Coda in "Worlds on Fire."

**Epilogue 3**

Months go by.

The time passes in a blur, with so much activity around the division that Lincoln barely has a moment to consider his personal life at all. For a wonder, most of the activity involves shifting from "rescue" to "reclamation"; Fringe events haven't ceased completely, but their frequency has dropped to manageable levels. More like, Lincoln realizes with a pang, what the Fringe team on the other side has to deal with. No less frightening or deadly at times, but with considerably less mass panic about spontaneous vortexes or toxic air.

Their world is healing, gradually recovering itself. Ambered areas are being reclaimed, slowly but surely, now that the process for pulling victims out alive has been improved. Everyone wants their loved ones pulled out first, but the area has to be proven stable first, and it's not as easy as flipping a switch. Not all of the Ambered make it out alive.

For the first few weeks, Lincoln has his hands overflowing trying to keep on top of all the new activity. Whole departments are being reconfigured toward the recovery efforts and it rapidly becomes clear that they really need an organizational genius in his position, rather than a soldier/science geek. When everyone gets on the same page about that, it's a relief rather than a demotion to find his duties essentially cut in half, with the monumental task of recovery organization going to Major Warner and leaving Lincoln with the familiar (and still too necessary) business of Fringe Division. Their world is recovering, but it's also been fundamentally altered, and the spontaneous physics inversions and scientific anomalies look like they're here to stay.

Liv and Charlie are likewise busy, supervising the recovery crews in case of surprise Fringe activity. But finally things even out to where their evenings aren't all about going home and immediately collapsing, and days off start to appear on their schedules again.

And it gets to a point that Lincoln finally becomes aware of the slanted looks in his direction, the hesitant half-started conversations and swallowed questions. Charlie and Liv had been there for him after the bridge closed, when he'd first been dealing with the fact of (probably) never seeing Olivia again, but throwing himself into the frantic pace of all the new projects really had been the best way of coping. Now, though...

Now all three of them are more or less back where they were a year ago, only moreso, without Frank around. Three healthy, active, more-than-friendly adults constantly thrown together by circumstance and their own insistence, because none of them would consider breaking up the team. Even if "Fringe Division" as they knew it eventually becomes a thing of the past.

And basically, Lincoln is tired of all the pussyfooting around. He invites them over for pizza and beer (and ginger soda for Liv) and it's not meant as an ambush, really. But they're a team and there should be no secrets or awkwardness between them.

They spend dinner talking about a de-Ambered site in Boston, a real feel-good story that includes a dog that the recovery team pulled out alive. Most animals don't survive the unfreezing process, but the Akita had bounded out of the Amber like he'd just come from the park, barking and jumping up to lick the agents' faces. Half the agents had fallen in love before his owner came stumbling out of the unraveling Amber as well, falling to her knees and weeping into her dog's fur. The pics hit OurTube and already had three million views before the day ended.

Lincoln clears away the boxes-no leftovers, his team eats like starving beasts-makes sure everyone has drinks, and turns off the tv that had been droning away quietly in the background. He parks himself on the chair across from the couch Liv and Charlie and gives them the most direct look he can. "Okay, spill."

Liv and Charlie look at each other, and it's Charlie who talks first. "Look, we...dammit. No bullshit, all right? We all know how we feel about each other. And maybe it's a little ridiculous that we're _not_ together. After everything we've been through."

Which is a lot more blunt than Lincoln had been expecting, but he did ask for it. "Do you really think we can go back?"

"No." Liv speaks up, clear and sure. "It can be better, Lincoln. Because I'm not trying to convince myself I'm in love with someone else, and Charlie..." she glances at him. "Charlie, tell him."

"Yeah." Charlie's voice is low. "I said something to you in the bridge room, and I've been regretting it ever since. I said something dumb about not seeing us, uh, doing the white-picket fence thing." He fidgets, his face twitching. "I was wrong. I was-"

Lincoln waits for it, already sort of knowing what's coming, needing to hear it. "-Linc, you know my family, all traditional and a million kids and all that. And everyone expecting me to get married to a nice girl, the whole expected package, and I kept trying to do that. It's what I thought I wanted. But I don't." Charlie looks at him, all his emotions laid bare on his face. "I want you. Both of you."

"'Cause neither of us are nice girls," Liv says, smirking, and then bites her lip. "There's- there's stuff we have to talk about, Lincoln, because I don't even know if you still feel the same about me, after- after Olivia-"

"No," Lincoln says quietly, and then adds quickly as Liv's expression starts to crumble, "Not the same, but I never stopped loving you. Either of you."

They all look at each other, scarcely daring to breathe, and Lincoln can't speak for them but he knows what's true for him is true for them as well: they're on the edge of something momentous, the rest of their lives suddenly being decided here. Only it seems to be more about accepting what's already there than a new decision.

Lincoln tries to gather his thoughts. "Liv, I didn't confuse you and Olivia, and I never will. Just, maybe...we should start over? The three of us." He takes a long breath. "Not from the start, we can't do that. But on more equal terms. Where I'm not pretending that I'm not in love with you both and Charlie isn't pretending that fucking us is just a diversion on the way to a wife and 2.5 kids and you're not pretending..."

"...that I'm not being a total bitch by keeping you both on a string when I've got another guy. Yeah." Liv's tone is bitter, self-recriminating. "That was really shitty, and I'm sorry. It wasn't fair to Frank, either, and I knew it."

"That's all done now," Charlie says, in a tone that suggests to Lincoln that he and Liv have had this conversation already, several times. "We can move on, right? And now that it looks like we actually have a world that's gonna hold together...I don't want to waste it. No more 'just after missions' crap. The three of us, okay? Where Lincoln cooks and I scrub pots and we argue about whose turn it is to do the laundry and- and-"

"And we're a family," Lincoln says, and they're all blinking too fast now, even if no one wants to be the first to start bawling.

"I call Not It on cleaning the toilets," Liv declares, and looks like she wants to launch herself at Lincoln except for Charlie's gently restraining hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry for everything. And I know we have more to talk about, I know there are things about me and Olivia, and me and you, but I just- I need you to know that I love you."

"Same," Charlie rumbles, and Lincoln's reminded of a conversation he'd filed in the back of his head in hope of just this occasion.

"Charlie, the arachnids have been dormant in your blood for-what, half a year now? And no trace of anything in your saliva or other fluids. There wasn't before either, but..." Lincoln holds Charlie's eyes. "I know how scared you are about infecting us. But every test shows that's next to impossible, and dammit, it's not about the condoms. I want to be able to kiss my- my partner like we both mean it."

Liv murmurs agreement, but Lincoln's busy biting his tongue over how close he came to saying "husband" instead of "partner." They'll get there, he doesn't have any doubt. But that's a proposal-literally-for another day.

"'Next to impossible' isn't," Charlie argues weakly, but Lincoln can see him struggling. "I'd never forgive myself if-"

"We would," Liv says firmly, "because that's the acceptable risk for being with you. It is, Charlie. Just like you guys put up with my bitchiness and we put up with Lincoln's geek-attacks."

Charlie slumps back on the couch, closing his eyes. "I...promise to work on it? Is that okay for now?"

"More than okay." Lincoln considers the two of them. "So what's the condition for me? There's gotta be something."

Charlie cracks his eyes open to slant a glance at Liv. She shrugs and grins over at him. "But Lincoln, what about all that time you spend trying to convince us that you're perfect?"

"Lies, damn lies, and all a façade. But y'know, if you can't think of anything..."

"Oh, we will," Charlie threatens, and Lincoln laughs.

"Rain check, then," he says, and the look Charlie gives him assures Lincoln that Charlie hasn't forgotten the last time that phrase was invoked.

"Well," Liv says softly, "what now?"

There's an obvious answer. Impossible as it is to believe, Lincoln hasn't been with anyone since Olivia, that last time in the closet. As far as he knew Liv hasn't either, and Charlie's gone on a handful of half-hearted dates that never went anywhere. So it probably wasn't just him who was as horny as a mink by this point.

When they all do get naked he wonders what they'll have to say about his latest tattoo, the thin pale tracing of a butterfly on his hip over the place where Olivia had too-briefly marked him.

But right now...

"Now, uh, in this newfound spirit of honesty, mostly what I want to do is cry on you two a little bit." Charlie takes the words nearly verbatim out of Lincoln's thoughts, and after that there aren't any more coherent words for awhile as the three of them curl into a weeping, cuddling mess on the couch.

Lincoln comes back to reality with his face buried in Liv's hair and Charlie's hand curled around the back of his neck and absolute surety that this is where he wants to spend the rest of his life.

A little less tearful, though. Even if he has to make himself the butt of the joke. "I should've taken bets on how long it'd take you to come around. That kind of stress is bad for my delicate constitution."

Charlie squints at him. "Now I know what you can work on. Your tendency to be a complete drama queen."

"And smug," Liv puts in.

"And overconfident."

"And egocentric."

"And vain."

"And-"

"_Okay,_" Lincoln protests, laughing. They're joking, mostly, although there's a thread of truth Lincoln's more than willing to cop to in their suggestions. But he was already thinking about how maybe they'll want to find a new place for a new start, somewhere that the three of them can make their own. And if not the actual thing, then a picture of that white-picket fence to remind them all that traditional or not, wherever the three of them were, they were home.


End file.
